Sehanine's Vessel
by Caerl
Summary: NWN2 OC Post-Arvahn.The Knight-Captain's group is in mourning. Shandra has given her life to free them from Jerro's Haven. Is she really gone? R&Rs appreciated.
1. Phoenix Tail Inn

Ammon Jerro sat near the fireplace in the empty taproom at the Phoenix Tail Inn. He had too much to think about. His war with the King of Shadows was filled with many losses, and very few victories.

The death of his great-granddaughter, Shandra, weighed heavily on his mind. That she died by his own hand trebled his consternation. In a rash fit of pique, he had ended the Jerro blood-line.

His mood was as lifeless as last night's ashes waiting to be swept from the cold hearth.

A tiny chirping sound from the floor near his feet made him look down.

Standing on its hind legs with front paws on his left knee was a small sable colored animal. Most folks would call it a weasel, but Ammon knew it as a sorcerer's familiar.

It probably belonged to that spoiled child with the flaming red hair and temper to match; Qara, what a fitting name.

When the familiar butted his hand, he withdrew it, not sure if the animal would bite or not. That seemed to upset the creature. It chirped again, stretching its head toward the warlock's hand.

Ammon looked down again, then drew closer looking intently. Behind the creature's pale gold eyes was a friendly intelligence; Eyes so very much like his own.

He raised his head, eyes welling up, threatening to spill over. "It can't be," he said, slowly shaking his head. He understood what a spirit vessel was, but refused to believe this creature was one._ A fool_ g_rasping at straws,_ he chided himselfand dismissed the thought.

He felt a rough tongue on the back of his hand. Then a tiny head butted his hand once again. He heard a final chirp and looked down to see the familiar cross the room and disappear into the kitchen.

* * *

She sat on the bed in a room she shared with Tie and Zhjaeve. Loneliness, her constant companion, was with her this evening. She hadn't slept for what seemed like days.

Her favorite stress reliever, sharpening a blade, any blade, was not working very well. Every weapon in her inventory was razor sharp and still she felt depressed. She refused to admit how deeply she felt about the loss of Shandra.

Khelgar had a war axe that he mentioned needed honing. _Now there's a challenge_, Neeshka thought. Tie had named the impressive weapon Khelgar's Lightning on the day that Qara had enchanted it in this very room. Sharpening it's murderous arc would be a painful task, even with a good pair of gloves; Lightning did not care who it hurt. In her present state of mind, pain was what she wanted.

Without warning, a book thumped down on the bed near the rogue's feet. Neeshka looked up at the shelf it came from to see a tiny face with close-set ears and a black, button nose. It peered down at her and winked.

Just seeing that comical tiny face lifted her spirits. "You missed," she said, sticking out her tongue, "you wanna try it again?"

It made a strange purring sound and put its chin on folded front paws.

"There you are. Come here." a harsh voice at the door commanded. Qara strode into the room, ignoring the seated tiefling. She reached across the bed and pulled the familiar roughly from its perch. After examining the creature closely, Qara dropped it carelessly into Neeshka's lap. "That's not Tamin. Where did that thing come from?" she demanded.

"I don't know. It was here before I was," said the rogue. In her present mood, thumping this red- headed witch would do what a whetstone on a blade could not. "How do you know it's not yours?"

"My fam has dark eyes. This one's eyes are gold." Qara said hotly, "and Tamin doesn't have a tattoo on his belly."

Neeshka gently turned the creature over and examined it. It did not seem to mind her touch. "Well, it's a she," the rogue pronounced, "and that's a sigil, not a tattoo. Moon elves know it as Sehanine Moonbow's mark."

"Get rid of it." the sorceress said, jerking her thumb at the door, "Sal doesn't allow animals in here. You know the rules."

"And what is that weasel you named Tamin?" the rogue shot back. "That's not an animal?"

"Tamin is a familiar, not a weasel," Qara pointed out,her voice rising, "I work here. I have permission to keep him here. You do not." Without waiting for an answer, she stormed out, slamming the door.

"You just saved your miserable life, you wretch." the rogue hissed at the closed door. "So, what am I going to call you?" she asked, stroking her new friend's velvet soft fur, "moonbow? Hmm... moon something." She was surprised when the creature looked up at her and winked its right eye again. It curled up in her lap and fell asleep.

For the first time in days, Neeshka lay back on her bed and drifted off to sleep herself.

She dreamed;

_This world had no form. All was in darkness. She felt a solid floor under her feet. There was sound, though; a universe of noise. Disconnected voices writhing in agony, torment, and madness. Behind them, a background of insanity that nothing on this plane could utter._

_She instinctively knew that this was Jerro's Haven. Just like she knew her trusted companions were standing with her; Tiernah, their leader, along with Khelgar, and Zhjaeve would never think of leaving any of them behind. Yet in this lower plane morass, Shandra was missing. She disappeared when they entered. It would only be a matter of time until they found her... wouldn't it?_

_Voices she knew faded in and out. Tiernah; "Listen, we're not beaten yet, so just keep yourself safe."_

_Shandra's, filled with saintly resolve; "There's no way I'm letting you die, not after all we've been through." _

_Shreds of conversations Shandra held with demons; "The wizard they face is blood of Jerro, it knows this." Told with bass resonance from the lower planes._

_"If it wishes to set us free, shedding of Jerro blood is all that is needed," in the hissing, wheedling tones of a master manipulator._

_The admiring, sonorous voice of Mephasm; "What you have done, Shandra Jerro is brave, but foolish."_

_Evil's victory; "You destroyed my summoning circles. You have weakened me, and in so doing you have earned death." this, a presage to Ammon Jerro's cardinal sin._

_"I know... grandfather...I'm sorry...I'm so sorry..." Shandra's final words in this life, accompanied by demonic laughter._

_The world was silenced..._

_Her own voice echoing stridently, "he killed Shandra. Let's gut him."_

* * *

Neeshka re-entered the waking world in shock. Her heart was pounding. She struggled to pull in a full breath. Her face was wet with her tears.

After collecting herself, the rogue sat up and took a look around. The one window in this room was thrown open. A cool morning breeze, scented with flowers from the garden outside, pushed the rough curtains away from the wall.

Last night, some kind soul had pulled a wool blanket over her. The other beds in the room had not been slept in. _I can never figure out the elven need for sleep, _she thought to herself. _Reverie would not be a bad skill to develop._

A commotion at her feet made her look down at the foot of the bed. A familiar face popped up above her knees. "Well, good morning sunshine," she cooed to the creature she named Moonbow the night before.

She had to smile when another similar head appeared and nuzzled Moonbow's chin. It wound it's body sinuously around the familiar and made contented chuckling noises.

"Well, who's your little boyfriend?" the rogue inquired, "are you going to introduce us?"

As she approached the common room, the tiefling heard the tail end of a conversation. The well modulated voice of Sir Nevalle; "...ride hard for Neverwinter. I will meet you there. You are to go alone. Your companions are to stay here."

_No, she won't go alone, _the rogue vowed. If Neeshka's dreams meant anything, Tie would be walking into a hornet's nest. Shadow priests, vampires, and who-knows-what would assault Castle Never. She wasn't sure when, but Tie would be there, alone.

Dreams had never made much sense to the tiefling. She was too practical to pay much attention to them. Still, after traveling with Tiernah to Arvahn, both her life and her outlook had turned around. The moon elf had proven to the skeptical rogue that the hand of a higher power guided them all, through their dreams.

She took a quick inventory; Her blades were all sharp. A visit to Sand's shop in Neverwinter had allowed her to re-stock healing kits and potions. Holy water, she shuddered, had been in short supply; she could only find two vials. _Oh well,_ she thought, _two will have to do._

Not wanting to be overloaded, she considered leaving her bow behind. Her Roguebow, crafted in the Underdark, had a wicked look that she liked in a weapon. Its light pull belied the tremendous speed and hitting power it gave to any arrow. Qara had charged her a small fortune to enchant it with the power of lightning; Even a plain missile hit harder. She only had ten arrows left...

Neeshka made her decision. After slinging her quiver and bow, she held open her shoulder bag. Moonbow, without any hesitation, jumped into the bag and burrowed to the bottom.

"Like it or not, moonie, here we come," the rogue whispered, as she buttoned her bag and slipped out the back door.


	2. Neverwinter

Neeshka thanked the cart driver, who waved from his high seat and slapped his reins across the horse's back. She flipped him a gold coin and started walking up the path to Neverwinter. A hooded cape concealed her features from prying eyes. The cart continued on its way to Port Llast in a cloud of dust and chicken feathers.

There were two hidden entrances in the stone wall surrounding Neverwinter. She had keys to them both. _That bastard Leldon won't have a use for them anymore,_ the rogue thought gleefully; She'd stolen them from his strongroom after killing him at the collector's manse.

One entrance was in the south wall; On the riverbank that led to the Docks District. The other led to a tunnel under the Merchant Quarter; Its outlet was right next to the city watch's rear door._ That one's hidden in plain sight,_ she thought with a chuckle, _the watch walks by all the time and never notices its trap door._

She chose the tunnel route. The entrance was in the north wall, out of sight of the watch towers located at each corner. The tunnel led down into total darkness. Her footsteps were accompanied by the steady drip of moisture from the rough moldy stone walls. The tunnel floor soon leveled off and curved slightly to the right. Up ahead, a faint glow assured her that no one else occupied this passage.

Patches of phosphorescent moss lit the way through the dim passage. The rogue turned left at the first fork and cautiously made her way to the end of the tunnel. A narrow flight of steps cut into the rock led to the surface. Instead of mounting these steps, she felt around the bottom one for a metal ring she knew was there. A faint rumbling sound from inside the wall proved that she had found the ring. A section of wall slid up, revealing a passage leading off to the right.

Ducking into the narrow passage, she grasped a large rusted hand wheel and began to turn it. As a counterweight was pulled back up, the section of wall dropped back into place, sealing the passageway.

This passage was not well known to the Neverwinter underworld. Though it was built at the same time as the entrance tunnel, it looked newer, cleaner; The rogue knew from her earlier travels that the farther she went under Castle Never, the drier this passage became. She doubted that even Leldon had known of its existence.

The next leg in her journey was the most disturbing. She could not travel this section without getting ill. A feeling of dread, along with nausea, and a splitting headache were the least that she would experience. Her first trip here rewarded her with a nosebleed that would not quit, and she retched for an hour after leaving. _What kind of ward does that? _She wondered, _thank Tymora the effects aren't permanent._

About half-way down the corridor, she encountered a circular iron grate set into the floor. It was three feet in diameter and covered a very deep shaft cut into the bedrock. A stone dropped through that grate would fall a long time before splashing into the water at the bottom. It wasn't a sewer, though; It didn't smell bad enough.

In the roof of this corridor, another shaft was cut. The rogue knew that it ended in another grate set into the corner of the Great Hall. Just one room removed from Nasher's throne room.

_Tie, where are you? s_he asked, mounting the rungs hammered into the bore of the shaft. After climbing for awhile, the rogue encountered a narrow slot in the wall with a pale shaft of light shining through. A quick peek showed her expensive boots and dress hems. This was the floor of the Great Hall. The knighting ceremony was just getting underway.

* * *

She sensed their presence long before she heard them. The group was making progress up the passage she had used. Cocking her head to one side, Neeshka descended a few rungs, straining to hear the slightest rustle.

The sound of hobnailed boots on the rough stone floor grew steadily louder. Her trained ears told her there was more than two pair, and their tread was heavy; _These guys are not lightweights,_ the rogue thought to herself, _if they're fighters, they are good. All the metal they carry is silenced._

Mindless shambling footsteps were an indication that some of these intruders were zombies. The stench of decaying flesh that reached her was further proof. It grew stronger as they approached.

Like a spider in her web near the ceiling, Neeshka watched as three shadow priests dressed in black cowled robes passed silently below. They were followed closely by two heavily armored warriors. The rogue recoiled at the sight of these two. Death knights were a legend to her; She'd never seen one before today. Yet, here were two of them.

Before the shock of seeing two death knights wore away, two pale, cadaverous humans passed by. They were leading five lightly armored, poorly armed zombies. _Hells' fire, _the rogue swore under her breath. _The zombies are no challenge, but two death knights and two ancient vampire blademasters? They're almost invincible._ Her overloaded mind was reeling. _What about the shadow priests? Tiernah is good, but she'll need help with this lot._

She thought about her situation for a moment; _The shadow priests are human_. _Lightning arrows will deal with them. Disable them first. Remember, we don't have any spells. Then the rest will be just a stand-up fight. __Right, _she scolded herself, _what do you do to a damned death knight? Ancient vampires? _She had the answer; _you disrupt them. _A back stab with this blade- she fingered the beautiful, jeweled grip of a dagger she'd bought at the Temple of Lathander in Neverwinter- should disable any undead. We finish the fight by chopping dead meat; She grimaced at the thought.

The rogue dropped silently to the floor and followed at a safe distance. She hesitated to use an invisibility potion; The knights had infra-vision. They would see her anyway. She decided to save the potion.

At the next corner, she stopped to take a look. Setting her bag, bow, and quiver down, she looked around the corner at floor level. A single death knight was standing on the top step of stairs at the end of the passage. Its back was turned to her.

Not wanting to miss this opportunity, the rogue sprinted down the hallway, taking her jeweled dagger out on the run. Reaching the stairs, she stopped. The death knight's attention was focused on the room beyond the top step. She was half-way up the steps when her victim pulled the door shut and began to turn. The dagger went into the death knight's side, all the way to the hilt; Just behind the breast-plate at the bottom rib.

Neeshka was not ready for what happened next; It was as if the dagger had seized her. She could not release it. Acting on instinct, she drove it further into the knight, searching for its evil, diseased heart. She felt her strength draining away. Her mortality lay before her. Death was beckoning. Refusing to give up, she worked the dagger in deeper with both hands... The darkness swallowed her.

When she came to, something was tickling her ear. Then a sharp pain- a bite. Opening her eyes, she saw moonbow's hind quarters blocking her view. The animal squealed and shied away. The rogue rolled to her left just as a sword's blade struck the floor, creating a shower of sparks.

The second death knight stood over her. Its sword raised for a killing blow. Somehow, she'd held onto the dagger; It was in her off-hand, but that located the blade where it needed to be. Placing the point with her left hand, she drove it in with her right hand on the pommel. Knowing what to expect, she braced for the impact. That draining sensation repeated itself, and a resounding roar swept through her mind. The empty armor clattered to the floor around her.

She quickly scanned the room, searching for any of the others. The door at the top of the stairs was still closed. She was alone. Wearily she picked up her shoulder bag and opened it. Two pale gold eyes greeted her. "Thanks 'bow," the tiefling whispered. "I owe you one." The familiar ran up the rogue's arm and settled companionably around her neck.

* * *

Neeshka was standing on the top step holding the door handle. This was the room that the death knight was set to guard. _Do you really want to open this door? _She asked herself. After kneeling down, she slowly turned the lock, careful of any sound that it could make.

She peered into the darkened room at floor level. Her infra-vision showed that the room was empty.

The rogue pushed the door open fully and ducked down, keeping a low profile. Her ears picked up the sound of quiet chanting. _An incantation, _her senses screamed at her. Magic spells were about to fly. She unlimbered her bow and nocked an arrow. Feeling the lightning flow through the wooden missile to its iron point, she drew back half way and waited.

When a black-hooded figure stepped out into view, she drew the arrow all the way back and took a deep breath. Time slowed to a crawl. As the priest raised his arms, the rogue sighted on the gold amulet he wore and released the arrow.

The shadow priest staggered backward and fell to the floor with a strangled cry. His unfinished spell consumed him in a brilliant flash that dazzled the tiefling's sensitive eyes. She readied another arrow and waited for her vision to clear; She could rely on hearing until then.

Evidently, the other priests were gone. After a time, she slung her bow and kneeled at the door to dig through her bag. She was looking for a potion to ease her weariness. No one ever told her that disrupting undead was such a drain. _There's more to being a cleric than meets the eye,_ she concluded.

A harsh, grating sound trumpeted down the hall. Followed by the sound of iron sliding on stone. Looking up, the rogue saw an iron grate descending. She stood up, pushing at the bottom of the moving trap. There was no way she could stop its descent. _Make up your mind,_ her awareness warned, _you have about three more seconds. Stay here and face the shadow priests, or find another way around._


	3. Castle Never

Neeshka reached down and pulled her tail free just before the iron grate seated in its floor slot. She'd declined to stay and face the two remaining shadow priests. There was another way around; An air shaft connected to a balcony in the Great Hall. Not sure what had caused the cage doors to drop, she decided to scout the area before engaging them.

Drawing a black hooded cloak around her shoulders, the rogue returned to the air shaft. At the top of the narrow bore was a trap door that opened onto an archer's balcony above the Great Hall. She would begin her search for Tie there.

The rogue began to climb, pausing at the slot in the shaft to look into the hall. It was pandemonium on the main floor. Castle guards were engaging vampires, shadow priests and wraiths, who were not fighting them; The invaders were attacking the nobles gathered for the knighting ceremony. Tiernah's yellow sun soul robes contrasted with the blue and gray uniforms of Nasher's troops. Her Eridis Harvester was the only enchanted weapon in use. Its lightning enhanced blade was making short work of mowing down spirits and vampires alike.

After climbing to the top, Neeshka carefully pushed the trap open just enough to be sure the platform was deserted; It was. As the tiefling neared the edge and looked over the parapet, a wraith jumped her from the left side. Drawing her short sword, she was dismayed to see it did little damage. Khelgar's rumble of a voice came back to her. They had been in the graveyard at Fort Lock; 'Slow down, this is not flesh yur dealin' with.'

She held the next stab of the sword longer than she felt necessary; The result was gratifying. The lightning consumed the spirit from the blade out, leaving nothing but an acrid foul smelling haze behind. _I'd have been hacking at that thing all day, _Neeshka thought. _Thanks moss-breath._

The rogue was again looking over the parapet; She observed both Tiernah and Nevalle as they engaged an ancient warrior vampire. The Neverwinter Nine Knight's blade had no visible effect, while Tie's scythe was only slowing the undead abomination.

Neeshka set an arrow in her bow and pulled it back half-way, allowing it to charge. Sighting on the vampire's back, she drew the missile all the way back, and executed a perfect release. The lightning arrow pierced the vampire's dead heart just as Nevalle's blade took its head. The undead body tumbled gracelessly to the stone floor.

Tiernah looked up and locked eyes with the apparition standing on the archer's balcony. The bow it carried was disturbingly familiar. There was only one like it; Neeshka's Roguebow.

The moon elf raised her right hand, palm outward, with her index and little fingers extended in a tiefling salute. The hooded shadow behind the parapet returned the gesture.

"Everyone... follow me to the guard room. We will regroup there." Nevalle was rallying his troops; The fight was not yet over. The tiefling jumped down from the balcony and followed her allies down the hall and around the corner. The guardroom door was closed firmly, almost in her face; Rolling a stone onto her already heavy heart. _Tie recognized me, _the rogue was outraged. _What in the nine hells is going on?_

* * *

Neeshka was sitting in an alcove with a good sight line to the guardroom door. After scouting the hall and finding nothing of interest, she settled down to wait for Tie to emerge.

She set out some dried jerky and water for Moonbow, and drew out her short sword, a beautiful dwarf-elven hammersword, supposedly crafted in ancient Illefarn. It was given to her by a young man who had saved her from being lynched by Luskan pirates in Highcliff. Its cold-iron blade had been re-worked by a craftsman she knew well; Khelgar Ironfist. While they were in Highcliff, he'd re-wrapped its grip with fine grained red dragon hide. The sword almost glued itself to her hand now.

Later, in Neverwinter, the dwarf continued his work by heating the blade red-hot and quenching it in an oil bath to temper it. This process made it more resistant to breaking. At Neeshka's request, the blade was then given a non- reflective finish. The flat on one side of the blade was a bludgeon, the other side was honed to a razor sharp edge. That sword was one gift the rogue treasured. It was originally named _Son of Illefarn. _She'd renamed it _Heart of a Friend. _Just holding it gave her some measure of comfort.

Qara had refused to touch the sword. She said it could not be enchanted. A hefty sum of gold spent at Sand's shop in Neverwinter proved differently; It appeared that cold-iron was very easy to enchant. It would hold a lightning charge like a lodestone. A scabbard with shielding was required to damp down the lightning and protect the wearer from harm.

Her thoughts turned to the current situation. _Are those elitist snobs ignoring me? _She wondered. Knowing the world's view of tieflings, Neeshka wasn't surprised. _What about Tie? All that talk from her about needing every one of us; Each of us has something to contribute. Was it just that... talk? _She shook her head sadly, while idly fingering the beautiful etching on her blade.

Something that a fellow adventurer once told her surfaced in Neeshka's reverie; 'Some things need to be taken on faith,' Elanee said. They had been discussing loyalty and betrayal. 'Loyalty is built upon trust,' the druid pontificated. 'Doubt is a test of that trust,' she continued. 'Use your faith to carry you through those times of doubt,' Elanee recommended.

_ Well, there's no doubt I'm being snubbed, _the rogue thought with a twinge in her heart. _The real question is... Why?_

* * *

The tiefling was on her feet, bow in hand_, _even before the guardroom door opened. After a quick look around, Tiernah stepped out and closed the door behind her. Neeshka was unsure of what to do next, so she stole up quietly behind the moon elf, not really expecting to be noticed.

"Forgotten how to follow orders, Neeshka?" The monk's tone was edged with ice. "Sir Nevalle told all of you to stay at the Phoenix Tail."

Without taking time to think, the rogue shot back, "Well, Well, I'm glad to see you too." Her sarcasm didn't quite cover up the hurt in her voice. "Besides, I don't answer to Nevalle or Nasher, only to you; Tell me to go and I'll go, but by the gods, if you send me away, I'll never come back." She was now trembling with suppressed rage, her eyes threatening to spill over.

Tiernah's gaze softened. Placing her hands on the distraught tieflings shoulders, she sighed and said, "Thank you for coming. I've always been able to depend on your skill and judgment, but this is Sir Nevalle's mission. I was told to face it alone."

"And where are the mighty Neverwinter Nine? Are you naïve enough to think you can face this... alone?" Neeshka was incredulous. "I've seen them, fought them. Tie... don't leave me out of this." she was getting angry at herself for begging. To the hells with this. She cursed her pride. "I've already killed two death knights and one of those priests. Are you ready for two more priests and a pair of vampire blademasters? And don't ask about the zombies, they're around here somewhere."

Tie took a step back, folding her arms. "Alright, you win. We're together until we find the door to Neverneath. Then I'll need to work my way through to defend Lord Nasher. It's some kind of loyalty test. You've got my back?"

The rogue looked at her friend with some speculation, sniffed, and said, "Something like that."

* * *

Neeshka was bent over, examining what remained of two of Neverwinter's finest castle guards. "Their blood was drained," the rogue intoned. "Wait here a second while I release them" She must have noticed the moon elf's expression. "What? Did I do something wrong... again?"

"Uh..no, I just didn't think you cared." Tie managed to say before the rogue continued.

"Whether I like it or not, these were my countrymen. They deserve eternal rest. Besides, they will not be raised for us to have to fight again if this goat-girl has anything to do with it." With that, she placed an arrow in her bow and charged it. After she carefully removed the crackling missile, she drove it into the chest of the fallen knight. The corpse kicked and then lay still.

After evicting Moonbow from her shoulder bag, Neeshka rooted around for a bit and pulled out a large clove of garlic. She almost tenderly placed it into the mouth of the corpse. Closing the gaping jaw, she looked up at Tiernah. "One down, one more to go."

"Anything I can do?" asked the moon elf, feeling left out. Usually she didn't mind when the rogue took charge.

"Keep an eye out for the bastards who did this," the rogue replied. "They're around here somewhere." She did her duty for the other guard and stood up. "Alright, done and done. Where to now, my leader?" apparently her mood had brightened.

* * *

"This hall to the right should lead to a tapestry that shows Lord Halueth Never's funeral. Behind that curtain is a door leading to Neverneath. The Nine don't know what's in there, because no knight that is living has entered. Sir Nevalle speaks of it with great awe." Tiernah supplied. She, like other nobles, shared Nevalle's reverence for Neverwinter's founder.

Neeshka turned from where she'd placed her ear to the door. "It's quiet on the other side," she whispered, eyebrow raised. "Time for a weapons check?"

Tie unslung a beautiful Elven Court Bow charged with lightning by Qara at the Sunken Flagon. Being a long-bow, it fired a larger arrow, and took less time to charge than most other launchers. With a few deft, practiced moves, the monk had the bow strung and ready. Her quiver was full of medium-length cold-iron tipped missiles.

"Errm... I gotta problem," the rogue said sheepishly. She held up her flattened leather parcel; It contained six arrows, their ragged fletching peeked out from its open end. "You don't want me to run out? Do you?" the rogue inquired like a lost waif.

"So much for being prepared. I thought you knew better," the moon elf scolded; a smirk spreading across her face. "With your accuracy, we'll never have enough arrows."

Tie's barb found its mark. "What?" the tiefling snapped, "I left Crossroad with ten, count them... ten arrows in here. There are now four of that bastard's minions we won't have to deal with; She held up a finger. One for a shadow priest I got after killing two death knights down in the tunnels; She held up two fingers. Another one for that vampire in the Great Hall that neither you nor Nasher's right testicle could put down; She held up four fingers. And finally the two I used to stake those guardsmen. I still have six arrows, as ratty as they are, left to finish the job. You wanna' talk about accuracy?" Her voice was rising with her ire.

"Got'cha, gigi," Tiernah exulted. "You feelin' better, now you've gotten it out of your system?" She handed the irate tiefling six arrows to refill her supply.

The tiefling's lashing tail slowed its tempo. "Stop calling me goat-girl," she gritted through clenched teeth. She reached into her shoulder bag and withdrew a vial of holy water. Grimacing, she dropped the container into her quiver and crushed it with an arrow tip. Then she stowed the remaining arrows, shouldered the parcel, and turned to the closed door.

* * *

"You've got the better bow, let me lead," Neeshka whispered, drawing her impressive sword quietly from behind her left ear. After seeing Tiernah roll her eyes and nod once, the tiefling opened the door a crack and slipped inside.

The long hall was dimly lit, but she could see no one. After pulling the door all the way open, the rogue stepped up to the first door on the right; It was slightly ajar, a waft of fetid air drifted out, causing her nostrils to flare. _Here there be zombies,_ the childish thought popped into her head. She raised a clenched fist to stop the moon elf and pointed to the door.

The soft tap of an arrow being readied set the rogue into motion. Neeshka pulled the door open slowly and took a quick look from floor level. Two tattered zombies stood side-by-side;They were simply barricades of rotting human flesh. At the far end of this hallway stood a shadow priest. The simple cut of his hooded robe marked him as an acolyte.

Tiernah's lightning arrow tickled her left ear as it passed, telling the tiefling that the battle was joined. Neeshka cut the legs out from under the right thrall. Before it could fall, she took the left one's head with a wide sweep of her sword and booted its body out of the way.

The shadow priest was down, struggling to pull the stinging brand from his shoulder. _So much for your sorry accuracy, moonie._ The rogue thought gleefully. The madness of combat possessed her entirely. Without a pause, she ran the cold-iron blade through her enemy's still racing heart. Twisting the sword out, she then decapitated him with a practiced, deadly accurate sweep.

Looking back to see if she was still covered, the rogue advanced to the door at the end of the corridor. When Tiernah was in place, she tried the door. It was locked. Giving a silent signal to Tie, she sat down to rest, willing her racing heart to slow its runaway pace.

* * *

Pulling out a selection of lock-picks, she had the door open in less than two minutes. Peeking through the partly open door revealed a two-pronged ambush; The two vampire blademasters and the last shadow priest were off to the left, at the end of a short corridor; Straight ahead, blocking a longer hallway, were the remaining three zombies and two spirit wraiths. The rogue retreated, closing the door softly behind her.

They huddled together to formulate a plan. Several ideas were mentioned and rejected. The plan Neeshka liked best was to sucker a few zombies back into this room to be eliminated. It would only be a matter of time before the vampires engaged them. By then, there would be fewer invaders to deal with.

After setting an arrow in her bow, the rogue opened the door and stepped through. The zombies were advancing mindlessly in her direction. Sidestepping to her right to clear Tie's field of fire, Neeshka drew back her missile. The priest and his escorts hadn't moved. The vampires blocked a clear shot at the priest, so she sighted on the right blademaster and let her arrow fly.

Three of Tiernah's lightning arrows passed through the door in quick succession, sizzling with power as they buried themselves to the feathers in dead flesh; It would take a few seconds for the lightning to poison the walking dead. _How does that moon elf fire so damn fast? _Neeshka wondered.

The wraiths were within three steps. The rogue set her bow aside and drew _Heart of a Friend. _She shouted a warning to Tie and retreated through the door, drawing the spirits with her.

"Slowly, Tie... let the lightning work," the rogue advised, as her blade consumed the leading wraith; She was fighting to be heard over the spirit's screams. Weakness was stealing up on her as the wraith slowly dissolved. Before she lost consciousness, she noticed Tie's scythe consuming the second spirit.


	4. Neverneath

She awoke to darkness. Darkness so cold and quiet, she could have been at the bottom of a well. Sitting up caused every muscle in her body to wake up and give voice to its outrage. Memory came crashing back to the tiefling. Castle Never was under assault. Tiernah was here somewhere... but where?

A tingling sensation in her leg caused her to look down. Her lightning sword was what woke her up; Her leg twitched where the blade touched her bare skin. The limb was dancing a spastic jig as the lightning discharged through her leg. Sheathing the sword, the rogue stood up and peered cautiously through the half-open door that faced her.

Tie was standing about half-way down the corridor, with her back turned. Her harvester held loosely in her off-hand. To the left of the door stood a shadow priest. Gold thread woven into his robe marked him as a high-order necromancer. The moon elf wasn't aware of his presence.

Neeshka's shoulder bag and quiver lay in the corner behind the open door. Using the cover the door offered, the rogue retrieved them and looked around for her bow. After finding it, she took inventory; The sword was whole, its edge keen. There were five arrows left. All of them were the ones given to her by Tiernah. _Damn, Tie doesn't see that necromancer,_ the thought galvanized her to act.

Setting a missile in the bow, she moved around the door to improve her shot. As soon as the priest was in full view, Neeshka drew the arrow back and sighted just below his head. The tiefling watched as the arrow flew true to its target and passed through it. The priest clutched his chest and stumbled back a step. Her second arrow finished the job and the priest was dead. He crumpled to the stone floor without a sound.

Tie, still unaware of her danger, was at the far end of the corridor. She appeared to be searching for something on the littered floor.

The rogue took a count of the fallen invaders. There were two priests and two vampires lying dead on the floor. Bits of ragged cloth and gore were all that remained of the three zombies. Tie had done a good job; The vampires had been staked with lightning arrows; Their heads had been removed and taken from the room.

Tie was standing near the end of the corridor. As Neeshka drew near, she heard the moon elf mumbling incoherently. "Nasher will never know... ...rogues leaving... ...test of loyalty..." The most disturbing was a reference to the King of Shadows.

Tiernah looked up when Neeshka laid a hand on her shoulder. "That was a real stand-up fight. They didn't know what hit 'em," the rogue's face fell when she saw Tie's blank expression.

_"Ilorna gurthcoiasira," _the rogue intoned, looking intently into her friend's startling blue elven eyes.

"Neeshka, it's time for you to go now," Tiernah said in a sad, distant voice. "Neverneath awaits." Without waiting for a response, she turned away.

Her face set with determination, her red eyes blazing, the rogue drew her beloved blade and carefully turned the flat down. Raising her sword, she brought it down on the back of her defenseless friend's head. A cry of anguish tore through the empty room as the moon elf crumpled to the floor.

Neeshka quickly sheathed her sword, pulled leather straps from her bag and went to work...

* * *

The closed door to Neverneath beckoned. Neeshka had carefully removed Lord Never's funeral tapestry and used it as a blanket for her fallen friend. The lock on the entrance was easy for the rogue to figure out; A stone in the wall beside the door and a pressure plate set into the floor both had to be depressed at the same time.

With some effort,she managed to open the door on its squealing, rusty hinges. After pulling the door closed behind her, the rogue took a long look around. She was alone. At the opposite end of a small room a set of stairs descended to an iron door.

Through the iron door, there was another short hall that ended in another door. This one had two complicated locks that held the tiefling up for about ten minutes. _I wonder if the moon elf had the keys, _Neeshka wondered with a touch of regret.

Through the door and down another flight of stairs, the rogue encountered an ornate metal grill. A simple sign adorned it; _Test of the Loyal._

When she stepped up to the grill, a voice spoke up, 'Turn back ye faithless, lest you face your mortality.' It had the qualities of a soulless, dead thing.

The tiefling rattled the grill and responded, "I am Neeshka, of Neverwinter, I am here to be tested."

'There is no turning back Neeshka, of Neverwinter, are you among Neverwinter's loyal?'

"Yes, I am. Let me pass." The rogue commanded.

_' _So be it. Advance and be tested.' The grill descended into the floor with surprisingly little sound.

The rogue stepped through the entrance and continued on without looking back. She could hear the grill sealing the passage behind her; There was no turning back.

At the end of this short passage was another grill that sank into the floor as she approached. Inside this chamber was a monolithic statue of a warrior, cut from a huge block of black rock.

As she stepped inside, she heard that voice again; 'Be aware that you approach the sepulcher of Lord Halueth Never. My duty in life and my pact in death, is the defense of this castle I built with my two hands. Continue onward and your loyalty to Neverwinter will be tested. Friends of Neverwinter have naught to fear. To those who are foreign or enemies of Neverwinter, be you from Illusk, the wilds, or someplace unknown, your presence will be cleansed.'

The grill on the right side of the chamber lowered to allow the rogue to exit. Four white creatures on measured wingbeats awaited her at the end of the hall.

When the last ice mephit fell, the grill giving access to the second statue opened. 'Mine are the hands that built Neverwinter, but not without my loyal fingers. How many fingers have I?' the voice of the second statue intoned.

_That's an easy one,_ the rogue thought, then she said, "There are nine fingers."

'Yes. These hands led the nine fingers to victory over Illusk ' with that, the grill over the left door lowered, allowing her to exit.

The sight of four Luskan pirates caused the rogue to unlimber her bow and set an arrow. When she stepped through the door, the grill sealed any retreat by that route. She had two pirates down by the time they reached her. _Time for a little hand-to-hand, _the tiefling thought grimly, drawing her sword and dagger. The pirate on the left took her dagger in the throat and went down right away. The last brigand was good, damned good. He managed to parry every thrust, making Neeshka work for every inch of ground. She drew him off balance and split his skull, when he tripped over a fallen comrade. She retrieved her weapons and continued on.

Stepping over the dead pirates, Neeshka entered room number three. 'What name has the lake beside Neverwinter?' the room inquired.

_This is a test? _The tiefling rolled her eyes and replied, "It's called Black Lake."

'Yes. It is named for the black blood the orcs spilled within the lake when we liberated the land.' The door on the right opened, allowing her to exit.

_Let me see,_ the rogue was guessing. _Orcs... maybe?_

She already had an arrow charging in her Roguebow when the orcs appeared. The skirmisher in the front made for a very tight shot at the archer behind. A short step to her right cleared the shot and the missile flew. Having no time, she drew the short sword and ducked under the charging brute. The back-stab was perfectly executed; The orc leader dropped like a stone. After finishing off the struggling archer, Neeshka entered the next room.

She was standing before the fourth statue. 'Were you an enemy of Neverwinter, where would you be buried?' _When does the test start? _She fought to suppress a yawn. "In the Tomb of the Betrayers." She was sure that was right.

'Yes. Neverwinter is distinct from the savages that surround it by the mercy we show to our defeated foes.' The grill on the left lowered into the floor.

Neeshka had four arrows left. _Maybe I need to reclaim a few, unless they are stakes,_ she thought. When she stepped through the door, there were two zombies and a vampire waiting. The gap between the skirmishers was just enough to allow a lightning arrow through. The arrow effectively disabled and staked the vampire cleric, freeing the rogue to chop the zombies to pieces in short order. After she took off the cleric's head, she threw it as far as she could down the hall; It rolled to the end of the corridor and came to rest against the closed grill.

'State the more common name for the artery of Neverwinter,' queried the next statue.

_Now we get to the challenge, _the rogue thought_. _"Uhhm.. The Neverwinter River," she blurted out.

'Yes. The Neverwinter River is called our artery for the warmth of its waters, and for the blood spilt in the defense of Neverwinter.' The gate opposite the statue lowered.

_Hmm... river...no clue. Let's see, _Neeshka sidled past the statue and exited the room. Peering to the end of the hallway she could just see..._ Water elemental, it's an elemental._ This was a shock to her-she had no idea how to fight it. She offered a silent prayer, _Tymora, I'm gonna need some help here. _With that, Neeshka waded in.

To the rogue, the elemental looked like a column of swirling water. It moved very slowly, just plodding along. When her sword touched it, the reaction was swifter than she expected; The water recoiled and formed an appendage that moved as quickly as any sword arm. Neeshka's sword sliced off every arm that formed. The severed limbs splashed to the uneven stone floor. It began to advance and retreat, as if some basic intelligence was at work. The rogue knew she was tiring too quickly. She would have to end this. After breathing deeply several times, she stepped up and stabbed into the heart of the construct. It was like stirring tar with the blade. Water was in her eyes, it was up her nose. Dark spots swam before her eyes. She willed her tired aching body to just hang on. She needed air desperately. A roaring sound was getting louder in her ears. She heard a loud snap and the water just fell to the floor. On her knees, she retched up filthy water and pulled in great whooping gusts of air.

After catching her breath, Neeshka retrieved her bow and quiver. Her bag was dry and supplied her with a healing potion. It was then that she noticed Moonbow was missing. Her heart sank. A quick search of the area turned up nothing. Hoping the familiar was safe, she had to move on.

The next statue was silent, so she sat down to rest. When it spoke, she jumped. 'Where might an enemy of Neverwinter find a map of our city?' It inquired.

The rogue said nothing. She had never heard of a map of Neverwinter being found anywhere. When the statue spoke again, she couldn't help but jump. 'Yes. A friend of Neverwinter would never reveal a map to its enemies.' The gate on her left opened, but she didn't even notice it; She was laughing too hard to notice.

After her laughing fit had settled down to a few hiccups and snorts, Neeshka stood and walked out the left door. _And what will I see now... nothing? _The fit threatened to return.

The tiefling was not disappointed. The corridor was empty.

Neeshka was off-balance. This was the seventh statue. She didn't know what to expect. 'How many gates must one pass from Neverwinter Harbor to her castle?' In that same dead voice.

She sighed in relief. "There are three; The merchant quarter, the back alley, and Black Lake."

'Yes. Three mighty gates, built so that if one falls, the others will prevail.' The grill on the exit opposite the statue sank slowly into the floor.

She actually smiled when the door led to a labyrinth. _Finally, a real challenge,_ the rogue exulted. It took her about twenty minutes to work her way to the exit. She was disappointed when the exit door led her to the next statue.

When she stepped into this room, the rising gate reminded her that she had a tail. Rubbing the sore spot, she listened to a different voice. It was alive and vibrant. 'You have proven to know Neverwinter, But for Neverwinter to know you, you must declare your loyalty to her.'

"I, Neeshka of Neverwinter, declare my loyalty to Neverwinter." She couldn't hide the regret from her voice. _Tiernah... It should have been you,_ she mourned. A single tear ran down her cheek.

'So be it, Neeshka of Neverwinter,' that same bright voice. 'The stone of this castle bears witness to your fealty. Protector of Neverwinter, take your place among us.'

The last grill sank slowly into the floor. A gilt edged sign mounted over this door read, _Lord Halueth Never_.

After stepping through, the rising gate reminded her that she couldn't go back.

Elven Translation

_Ilorna gurthcoiasira- _Wake up, time to die!


	5. Lord Never's Sepulcher

At the entrance to Lord Never's tomb, a small carved statue, very much like the ones that had asked her test questions, caught her attention. When she stood in front of this carving, a familiar voice spoke to her, 'The nine will protect my resting place from any who approach, but one of the nine is missing. Take his place to join my side.'

The tomb of Lord Halueth Never was nothing like Neeshka imagined. Standing at the door to the large vaulted chamber, she paused for a good look. She could see eight massive statues carved from the native black rock in the form of armored knights, surrounding an open bier that held the earthly remains of the founder of Neverwinter. A shimmering blue haze hid his body from direct view.

When the rogue entered the tomb, eight greatswords floated up from the floor and formed a ring around Lord Never's bier, allowing her to walk around the outside of the chamber. The confused tiefling took a long look around the room before she figured out what to do.

All the statues were mounted on stone pedestals, arranged in a circle around the raised bier. One of these pedestals had no statue; It was located between Lord Never's body and the exit to the throne room.

When she stepped up onto the pedestal, the greatswords floated to the floor and a stone plaque set into the side of the bier slid open. Stepping down from her pedestal, the rogue expected the swords to rise back up, but they remained at ease on the floor. She removed a rolled parchment that was surprisingly supple for its age. The ancient heraldry was easy for her to read;

_The nine are assembled and one duty remains for me. I bequeath this, the Rod of Never,_ to t_he new Lord of Castle Never. __Deliver it to him that he may use it to protect Neverwinter from its savage enemies._

Neeshka carefully re-rolled the directive and stowed it in her bag. She then turned back to remove the other two items from the burial vault; A beautiful bejeweled scepter, and a longsword of exceptional craftsmanship. She would present them both to Nasher on her way out.

Passing the statue on her left, she noticed a small plaque set into its base. It read; _Slade, the last of the nine. Sadly, his first day was his last battle._

To the right of this statue was another. It read;_T__amper, eighth of the nine. Youngest of us all_, _who kept us young_.

The next statue's plaque read; _N'halien, the seventh of the nine. His chest caught an Illusk arrow meant for mine._

She walked around to the next, which read; _Coneth, sixth of the nine. His blood was impure, but none doubted his heart._

_Coneth... Coneth, his blood was impure_... Those words echoed in her mind. _My blood is __impure, _she thought of her horns and tail._ But no one knows my heart, _her mind sobbed. she looked up to the stone warrior's visage. The dam broke. The tears would not stop...

* * *

The ancient spirits of Neverneath bore witness to a first in Faerun; A tiefling in reverie, an elven gift from Neeshka's mother to her.

The other seven statues arranged in a circle around Lord Never's bier gave the rogue a nasty shock when she tried to touch them. This one, however, located at seven O' the clock, welcomed her touch. Its cool surface calmed her tormented mind. She seated herself and was pulled gently into that dreamy state known to all the elves as reverie.

She would have called the trance she was in communion if she had any experience. To Neeshka, it was a vivid dream. In this dream she saw an elven woman unlike any type of elf she had ever seen before. This woman's colorless eyes and silver-white hair were like that of the drow, but her skin was fairer than any dark elf the rogue had ever seen.

The woman's demeanor was like that of a lost child. She had an innocence that was tempered by anger at evil's work on this plane. However, the voice that came through belied her treatment. It was a mother's voice, almost celestial in nature. Neeshka knew it was _her_ mother's voice.

::_Hello, my child. It has been many a season since your birthing,::_ the voice began. The rhythm, the inflection of her speech held the tiefling in thrall.

::_My mother? Please tell me why I shouldn't be angry with you?:: _Despite her awe, bubbles of anger were surfacing in the rogue's half-consciousness.

Neeshka's mother's serene smile didn't waver; This was something her daughter must hear and understand, ::_It is true that you are the product of... an unfortunate, reluctant union. Your grandmother was a powerful wizard trapped in Baator during a war of good against evil. She escaped to her home on this plane more dead than alive. _

_She refused to reveal how she managed to secure her freedom, however, nine months later she bore a child. That child was me, Neeshka, your mother. I am called a Fey-zu. Fortunately my features were and are that of my mother's Silver Elf heritage. _

_At your birth, my dear daughter, we noticed your grandfather's Baatezu traits. Although your life has not been an easy one because of them, you must admit, your unusual traits have given you a strength that would ordinarily be missing in a human or an elf. ::_

_::Oh sure, I learned to like the loneliness, the beatings, the feeling that I was on the outside looking in. Is that how I pay for my strength?:: _Neeshka could feel her civility slipping away as self pity took over...

::_You are what you are,:: _Neeshka's mother, ignoring the rogue's sarcasm, told her. ::_You must learn to accept your heritage. Your grand-mother had no choice in who sired me.::_

_::I have accepted my heritage, I revel in it,:: _the tiefling's chin was up; There was pride in her voice. ::_What I find hard to accept is that you abandoned me. What woman worthy of calling herself mother would do that?::_

_::You can rest assured that I did not abandon you,:: _the rogue's mother said, placing emphasis on _abandon_. :: _I placed you with the Brothers at a local monastery. You need to understand, your life was in danger. The Monks promised to take good care of you. Did they do that? I lost touch with them over the years.::_

_::For awhile,:: _Neeshka said, with some hesitation, ::_You see...When I was old enough, I ran away. Their cloistered life was too confining. I had to get out; I wanted to see the world.::_

_::Ahh, very few elves could stand being cooped up for very long,:: _her mother was very sympathetic_. :: It was fortuitous, that in your travels, you met up with the moon elf and the dwarf. They have set your feet onto the path of light.::_

_::That is a closed chapter,:: _the rogue coldly replied. ::_ It is over.::_

_:: And that, my dear, is where you are so wrong,:: _her mother said. :: _A new chapter has been written... you must turn the page.::_

Neeshka did not look convinced. :: _How did you know about Tiernah and Khelgar?::_ she asked, changing the subject.

Her mother's face brightened. :: _I heard rumors of a tiefling sighted near Neverwinter, so I have been scrying there for some time. I have managed to catch fleeting glimpses of you and your friends from time to time. You are very stealthy, my child.::_

_::Where are you? Will I see you again?:: _Neeshka implored, feeling her time with her mother slipping away. ::_All my life, I've wanted to find you.::_

_::If it is Our Lady's will, :: _her mother replied. ::_Now...your destiny awaits. Until the day of our meeting, little one... fare well.::_

_::Until then, My Mother,:: _the tiefling whispered.

* * *

The impressive stonework representing _Coneth_ filled her vision. Neeshka stretched out, feeling wonderfully refreshed. Her pain, once an intrusive scream in her mind was muted to a shadow of a whisper.

Regaining her feet, the rogue took stock of her situation; She'd passed the loyalty test, winning the Rod of Never and Lord Never's greatsword. However, moonbow was missing, and the fate of her friend and leader, Tiernah, was unknown. Nasher was in grave danger; Her next move was to the throne room._Upward and onward._.. _Let's get going,_ she prodded herself.

Neeshka exited Lord Never's Sepulcher by skirting the guardian statues and following the red carpeted hallway that she knew led to Lord Nasher's throne room. The sound of bestial snarls and the clash of sharpened blades could be heard through the closed doors.

After opening the second iron-clad door, she was greeted by a spectacle of mind-numbing carnage. Dead and dying greycloaks and castle guards were scattered about the scene of Lord Nasher's last stand.

Nasher was in a far corner, his massive greatsword raised in a classic defensive posture. He was surrounded by a cadre of blue cloaked knights; His Neverwinter Nine.

The creature they faced was a horror. A minion of the King of Shadows known as a shadow reaver. It dominated the center of the room with its presence. Armed with a lance that was dripping with poison, it was parrying every blade thrust at it with a savage competence.

The rogue loosed three lightning arrows into the reaver's back before it turned and advanced on her. Retreating through the door, she led it into her hastily built ambush; Her shoulder bag was swinging in wide arcs from a torch bracket at the end of the hallway.

The reaver, sure it was after an easy kill, charged past her hiding place. The rogue stepped out behind it and buried both her lightning sword and shadow dagger into its unprotected back. Her weapons, along with the sparking arrows buried to the feathers in its back were enough to discorporate the reaver, sending it back to the Vale of Merdelaine.

After she retrieved her weapons, Neeshka pulled her black, cowled cloak around her shoulders, and made sure she still had the Rod of Never and Lord Never's greatsword. Taking a deep breath, she murmured a quick prayer to _Tymora, _and stepped through the throne room door.

_A/N Profuse thank-you's to my new beta Wyl. It can't be an easy job untangling someone else's twisted logic. C._


	6. Castle Quarters

Sir Nevalle was sure that Castle Never was cleared of invaders, because the gates that were designed to protect the royalty had dropped back into the floor, opening the way to his Lord Nasher's side.

The grisly task of cleaning up the carnage of battle still lay ahead. The knight's heart was heavy; Many of his comrades-in-arms, some of them best friends lay dead here.

The Captain of the Neverwinter Nine approached the throne room on the run, stopping short upon entering. He could not help but stare at the scene before him. A tall figure, wearing a midnight black hooded cloak, was kneeling before his Lord Nasher.

"My Lord, I bring you a missive from Lord Halueth Never." The hooded figure's voice was high pitched; It was that of a woman, but its timbre, its formality spoke of much experience in battle.

Nasher unrolled the scroll and quickly read the message written there. He handed it to an aide and took the proffered scepter. This was the Rod of Never; Aside from being a symbol of power, it unlocked secrets that would aid the Nine in their defense of Neverwinter.

"My Lord Nasher, complements of Lord Halueth Never," the rogue intoned with solemnity, as she presented Never's greatsword to her new liege lord.

"The Rod of Never... and now... Blessing of the Daystar." Nasher's voice was filled with awe. "Come with me warrior. We have much to discuss." With that, Neverwinter's ruler opened the door to his ready-room and gestured for Neeshka to precede him.

Nevalle was aghast. "My Lord... You need an escort...This... messenger cannot be trusted." Many hands went to sheathed swords. Had Nasher been fooled?

The King turned and fixed his retainer with a stern look. "Nevalle, your concern is touching, but unwarranted in this case. If this was an assassin, I would not be living at this moment. See to the wounded and begin interment of our fallen. I want a list for a heroes proclamation. Speak with Prior Hlam about opening the Tomb of the Betrayers. I will be with you shortly."

"Yes, my Lord. Thank you, my Lord." was all the flustered knight could think of. He could not hide his resentment to being given such menial duties, so he turned away to begin his tasks.

* * *

Neverwinter's most recent ruler turned from the door and faced the apparition in black. He had no cause to fear this messenger. Passing the trials of Neverneath placed her in very august company; There was no one more loyal to king and country.

"Now, lady spirit, may I know the face of Neverwinter's chosen?" Lord Nasher asked as he crossed the room and opened a cabinet on the far wall. He drew out a large bottle of wine and two crystal goblets chased with delicate engravings showing knights battling fierce dragons.

"My Lord," she began. "I am not sure you will like what you see." She made it sound almost like a challenge.

"Well, at least allow me to make that determination for myself," was his teasing rejoinder. With swift, efficient motions, Nasher uncorked the vintage and poured for them both. The King's years at court stood him in good stead; When Neeshka removed her cloak and turned, his reaction was a broad smile. "And what is it that I will not like?" he asked passing the wine to her.

"My lord," she began, her mind was racing to keep up. "Tieflings are not well received in your realm."

"Yes, most... ...tieflings? Are possessed of evil intent." the king agreed. "But you would not be here if you intended harm to Neverwinter. The Spirits of the Nine would have eliminated you."

She looked at the wine glass, not quite sure what to do with it. "My Lord, I'm not even sure it was me who was supposed to take the test," it came out in a rush.

Nasher seemed to be pleased with her candor. "Young woman, tiefling or not, you have done what a generation of knights has failed to do. The test is not passed with skill. It is passed with heart and soul. You cannot fool the spirits. They have spoken and you have been chosen."

"My Lord, Tie... the Knight Captain of Crossroad Keep, I need to find her." Neeshka's mind was jumbled; She couldn't think. "Tiernah was at the guard-room door last I saw her." Her concern was real. _Gods, I hope they found that note. How else could I justify assaulting a knight of the realm? Well, If they don't find it, it's the goat-girl in gaol for sure._

Impressed by the tiefling's concern, the king thought for a moment and then said, "Please excuse me for a moment. We'll soon find out where the Knight Captain is hiding." He crossed the room after setting his wine glass down and opened the door. "Nevalle... the Knight Captain..." the closing door cut off the rest of Nasher's orders.

The rogue sat in one of the richly upholstered chairs, sniffed the glass of wine, tasted it, and finding it to her liking, drained it. She then refilled both glasses from the bottle. The excellent vintage relaxed her. Before she knew it, the rogue had fallen fast asleep in the comfortable chair.

* * *

_Luskan pirates caught up with her as she was refilling her waterskins at a stream just north of their camp near the village of Highcliff. The danger of being alone in the near-wilderness never crossed her mind. Neeshka was easy prey for the sea-born marauders. After beating her senseless, they bound her tightly and dragged her to the nearest tree._

_She was being handled roughly. Punches and kicks rained down on her unprotected body. A ringing sound in her ears competed with shouted curses that were hurled at her. At this point, she would have welcomed oblivion, but consciousness remained, denying her any peace._

_ The real pain started as they hoisted her bruised body into the air. Her breath was blocked by the rough cordage looped around her neck. She was disciplined enough to remain still, there was always a chance that the rope would break..._

_

* * *

_

Neeshka returned to the waking world with a start. She was lying face down on the cold stone floor. There was someone in the room with her. Along with the legs of the chairs placed around the table, she could see a pair of heavily shod, armor encased legs. _Lord Nasher is back, _reality invaded her sleep-fogged mind. _Get up you fool. He's watching you._

Lord Nasher sat at the head of his Knight's conference table, fingering a ragged bit of parchment. His stern gaze and serious countenance put the tiefling on her guard.

"My Lord... your pardon," she said, kneeling where she stood, near the closed door.

"Stand easy, warrior," Neverwinter's ruler replied. He sat still for a moment, carefully choosing his words. "It would seem that intrigue follows in your footsteps. Tell me, young woman, how did you come to be at my guardroom door during a battle for the very survival of Castle Never?"

_He's found the note. Tymora help me, this is the moment of truth. _The rogue took a deep breath and started to tell her tale.

* * *

During her recounting of the trial in Neverneath, Lord Nasher listened carefully. He only interrupted her once; That was to ask why she had covered the Knight Captain after binding her. Satisfied with the answer, he bade Neeshka to continue.

"It appears there is more to this test of loyalty than meets the eye. Nevalle tells me that the Knight Captain was assaulted, tied up, and left in the Great Hall," Nasher said when the rogue had finished her story. "So, the Knight Captain gave you good reason to doubt her loyalty?"

"Yes, My Lord," she answered. "We've traveled together for some time, I know her. After she faced that shadow priest, she was not herself."

Lord Nasher held up the scrap of parchment. "Think carefully, your life may depend on your answer. What can you tell me about this?" he asked, watching Neeshka intently.

"My Lord, that's the note that I wrote," the rogue answered. "I was concerned about Tie's safety, so I bound her up, covered her up,wrote that note, and went on to continue our mission."

"And your assumption, stated in this," he tapped the parchment with a finger, "was that the Knight Captain was allied with the enemy?" Nasher didn't sound convinced.

"Yes, My Lord, I believed that Tiernah was charmed by the shadow priest." After stating this, the rogue realized how thin it sounded. _Now the axe falls, _she shivered at the thought.

" And the ink..." Nasher let this question hang, watching her closely.

Her stomach plummeted. "My lord, it was written in my blood... I had no... I had nothing... _Get a hold of yourself, _her mind screamed at her. _Do you want to die? _"That was all I could find to write with... My Lord," she lamely finished.

Lord Nasher sat immersed in thought, a small smile on his face, as he considered the questions before him; The Knight Captain, when Nevalle found her, had certainly behaved strangely. They had to subdue her and call in healers and clerics to deal with her strange malady. Had she really been charmed? The foremost question; Was this courageous tiefling woman justified in what she did? And finally; What am I to do with this warrior of unfortunate heritage? Standing still, she awaited her fate. It all hinged on the decision of this one man.

Neverwinter's ruler got to his feet, leaving the parchment that had meant so much to Neeshka on the table. He had not reached a decision, but he had a plan. "Until this is sorted out, you will be quartered in this room," he pronounced. "No one is to see you but my serving girl, and then she will only see a hooded, cloaked figure. And make sure this door is bolted from the inside at all times." With that Nasher strode from the room and firmly closed the door.

* * *

A sharp knock made her look up. She would have to unbolt the door; It was locked from the inside. Neeshka called, "just a second, I'm coming," and donned her hooded cape.

The cloak, serving as more than protection from the cold, concealed her head, while a loop of leather sewn inside the back of the cape was used to secret a small blade. She could tuck her tail snugly into this loop, comfortably out of sight. Chairs presented a problem with this arrangement, but she'd always had problems with chairs. She'd just learned to sit down carefully.

When the rogue opened the door, she was greeted with a cheery, "'Mornin' My Lady." A stocky young woman loaded down with a tray and two shoulder bags entered and set about tidying the room. The food she brought smelled heavenly. Neeshka sighed; She would have to wait to eat. Her stomach rumbled in protest.

The door crashing open against the wall made them both look up. _Gods... I forgot to bolt the damn door,_ the rogue thought, too late.

"Sir Nevalle... No one is allowed..." the frightened serving girl's voice was strident.

"Silence." To the young girl, the Captain of the Nine's word was law. "You are finished here, leave... now."

The flustered servant picked up the chamber pot, fumbled with it, and fled the room. She dared not look back.

Sir Nevalle turned from bolting the closed door and faced the cloaked shadow that he believed was a threat to his Lord and Land. "I am not here to harm you. You are under Lord Nasher's protection. He has stayed my hand... for now. But I will have my say." He seemed to grow more angry as he spoke.

Neeshka was unwilling to provoke Nevalle; She was unarmed on his battlefield, and wisely chose to keep silent.

"You walk the path of shadows, like a thief. Who are you?" He stepped closer, the red eyes under the black hood never left his. Their intensity stopped him just a few paces short of where she stood. A brief flash of fear lit his face as he said, "You have assaulted the Knight-Captain of Crossroad Keep, a member of the Neverwinter nobility. It was her loyalty that was to be proved, not yours. For your insult, you will answer to me personally."

The silence spun out; Neither of them would turn away. Neeshka wanted desperately to advance on Nevalle, force him to retreat, but thinking the better of it, she just held her ground.

"You've sworn loyalty to Neverwinter. My Lord believes you, but you haven't fooled me. Your kind does not belong here. Beware the Nine, we are watching you." Nevalle's voice was tight with anger.

_And what is my kind?_ Her mind cried out. _Your beloved ruler would be dead now without_ _my kind._ The rogue held her tongue. She knew the most insulting thing she could do, and she did it; After pulling her chair out, she carefully pulled her cape back and sat down, dismissing Nevalle's presence.

She heard him swear under his breath and the sounds of his footsteps retreating. He'd left without closing the door.

After looking out into the Throne Room and finding it deserted, she shot the bolt, locking the door from the inside. She massaged her stiff tail, threw the cloak onto the bed, and sat down to eat.

A/N _I can't thank my beta-reader Wyl enough. You are the man!_


	7. The Guardroom

Neeshka was intrigued. In her travels around Neverwinter and as far north as Luskan, she had never encountered a door like this one. It was a mechanical marvel. Her interest in things mechanical went far beyond the workings of locks and traps. She believed that Neverwinter's future was bright and that machines would be part of that future. Maybe that was why she was one of the few who got along well with Grobnar. Once you got past his endless, insecure chatter, you realized that he was very bright and had something useful to offer.

She'd found the door in a far corner, under a tapestry of blue with gold brocade. Its outline was barely visible even when she looked closely. That had been two days earlier, when Nasher had first confined her to this gilded cage. The tiefling was itching to be free. After she'd tried everything she knew, the door simply refused to open.

Opening that door had finally proved more than easy. She was moving a heavy chair into the corner when, off balance, she leaned against the wall. Feeling something behind the wall covering shift, she set the chair down and carefully examined behind the tapestry.

When she pushed a stone carved into the shape of a lion's head that was set into the wall panel, the section of wall moved back a few inches and stopped. Apparently the stone section of wall was jammed. When released, it returned to its closed position. With one hand on each side of the lion's head, she managed to push the secret door back fully and swing it aside.

She was mystified that such a large heavy section of wall would move with such little effort. She could not see or hear any counter-weights or chains that were normally associated with a door like this. Maybe Grobnar had seen one like it and could explain how it worked.

The sound of the bar across the Throne Room door being removed interrupted her exploration. It was still bolted from the inside though. Neeshka managed to pull the secret panel back into place just as a tentative knock sounded on the door to her cell.

* * *

"Here, let me help you with that." Neeshka took the tray from the overloaded serving girl, who smiled her gratitude. Cabin fever was setting in, so any company was welcome. Up to this point, there hadn't been any news about the Knight-Captain.

She hadn't made up her mind about leaving. Finding that secret door made escaping a possibility, but she knew that running away would not solve her problems, they would only get worse. Still, the longer she waited, the less sure she was of a favorable outcome. She decided to wait for a few more days before making a decision.

"I bring you good news," the girl announced with a formality that made the tiefling smile. "The Knight-Captain is awake and on the mend." She took a long moment to dig around in a large leather bag. "It was right here... damn it." she looked up with a shocked expression. That broke the ice. They both burst out laughing. "Ah, here it is; A note from the Knight-Captain. I just left her room," she said. Some of Neeshka's cheerfulness was returning.

Her chores were finished, so the serving girl hefted the chamber pot and promised to return in the evening. Also, she would be glad to carry any messages, verbal or written, to the Knight-Captain.

"I'll write a reply," the rogue promised. "But for now, tell her I'll see her soon."

"Yes Mi'Lady," she replied with a radiant smile that warmed Neeshka's heart. Thanking the tiefling for opening the door, the serving girl managed to curtsey gracefully, even with her hands full and left the room.

Not knowing what to expect, Neeshka broke the seal on the note with trembling hands. She could deal easily with any decision Nasher could come up with, but her friend's regard was something too valuable to lose.

She unfolded the note and read its short message; _Come see me. I need you. T.L._

The rogue pulled out a sheet of note paper, opened the ink bottle, and wrote; _Is that you? Prove it with this statement; Hey... Sundo... N.O'N. _She sealed the folded request by tilting a candle over it and embossing the cooling wax with her signet ring.

* * *

True to her word, the serving girl returned with dinner and took the note away with her. She seemed to be preoccupied. _They're working this poor child to death,_ Neeshka thought with regret; After leaving Helm's Hold, she'd always valued her freedom.

Less than a half-hour later a note slid under the door, accompanied by a quiet tap at the door.

Tie's answer to her query was a bit longer; _It's me gigi, Captain Edgewater's little boy, Rolan, saved your neck by leading a Luskan pirate to his death by saying, "Hey...Sundo en roch... Ilorna gurthcoiasira!. That means; Hey... horse's bottom... Wake up, time to die!_

_Be here tonight after lights out. T.L._

That's her, the rogue was sure. _That stuffy moon elf wouldn't say horse's ass even if one was in her face. _That was Tie for you. Neeshka set about planning tonight's foray to the guard-room.

* * *

The sand in the twelve-hour glass the serving girl, Aelicia, had given to her was about to run out. It was time to go.

Neeshka opened her new shoulder bag and took stock of its contents; Along with two invisibility potions, a bottle of healing draught, and a spare candle for her hooded watchman's lantern, there was also a set of lock picks, and a sharpened butcher knife-the only weapon she could find. She wasn't looking for a fight.

The bag reminded her that Moonbow was still missing. After murmuring a prayer to Tymora for her little friend's safekeeping, Neeshka lit the lantern, turned the hour glass over, and opened the secret door.

When closed, the back side of that marvelous door showed her nothing of its function. The beam from her lantern revealed two stout iron arches that were hinged to the side wall. A long radius arm ran from the top arch through a slot cut into the stone wall. _Grobnar has got to see this, _she breathed in admiration, _I wonder who could have built it? _Her thoughts turned dark, _Are they friend? Or are they foe? _She looked down into the darkness. _The Drow?_

She stood on the narrow ledge with her back to the door to get oriented. The focused beam of light from her lantern would penetrate only so far. Small iron rungs set into the rock wall gave her some idea of how far down the shaft went.

Neeshka descended into the darkness, feeling along with her toes at each step. The bore of the shaft flared slightly where it joined a gallery cut into the native bedrock. Dropping to the floor, she quickly set off to her left, in the direction of the guardroom.

At a fork in the tunnel, she took the left path and made her way, listening carefully, to the end, where another air shaft was cut through the ceiling. She climbed the shaft to find a small room with slots, cut at eye level, in all four walls. Dust on the floor in layers spoke of many years of disuse.

The guardroom door was visible through a slot in the left wall. There was no guard posted outside. A lamp hanging outside the door indicated the room was occupied.

A ladder on the wall to her right led to a trap door in the ceiling. After adjusting the shutter on her lantern to dim its light, the rogue mounted the ladder and carefully opened the trap, wary of guards who might be watching.

On the roof was an archer's balcony that commanded a view of the guardroom door and much of the main hallway. To the right, an iron ladder leading to the floor of the hall was in plain view of the room where the Knight-Captain rested.

Neeshka was about to take the ladder down, when the door to the guardroom rattled and swung open. Nevalle and the leading priest of the Temple of Tyr, Prior Hlam, stepped into the hall, engaged in a quiet discussion.

"Her recovery is going slower than expected, Prior, is there anything else that would help?" Nevalle's concern was strong.

"Elven resistance to necromancy is a new course of study for us," the priest explained. "A Seldarine Cleric, specifically, one devoted to Sehanine Moonbow, would help us immensely. Two brothers were sent yesterday to petition for aid..." the Prior held out his hands. "She may get better before they return. It is only a matter of time before she completely recovers."

"Time is what we do have," Nevalle agreed. "About the Tomb of the Betrayers..." Their voices faded as they left the hall.

* * *

The invisibility potion she'd taken a few minutes ago left a nasty aftertaste that a swallow of water wouldn't touch. The rogue sighed in resignation, descended the ladder, and watched the knight and priest retreat. When sure they were gone, she paused with her hand on the door and scanned the hall. The castle was quiet, she turned the knob and entered the room.

The Knight-Captain was not in this room. Racks of weapons and armor stands lined the walls. _Here's where the king's levy went,_ Neeshka thought, fingering some of the items stored here. _None of this stuff is cheap._

There was a door at the far side of this room that stood ajar. A pale glow illuminated a bed and several chairs arranged to face it. A small table beside the bed held a guttering candle and two bottles. The rogue stepped up to the bed and almost moaned out loud.

The occupant had fallen asleep while reading. The book lay across her chest, tented open to the last page she read. Tie's head had been shaved. Under the fine down of dark hair that had begun to grow back was a row of sutures that trailed around behind her right ear. She had lost weight and dark circles under her eyes spoke of ill health. In spite of her appearance, she was resting quietly.

"Oh Tie, what have these bastards done to you?" Neeshka whispered. "Don't they know what they're doing? Why isn't someone here to watch you?"

_I only gave her a knock on the head, _her guilty conscience protested. _They can't dispel a simple charm spell without almost killing her? _She gently picked up the book, marked the page, and laid it on the side table. She searched the room and came up with a candle to replace the one that was about to go out.

* * *

The rogue sat in a chair beside the bed to collect her thoughts. She didn't want to awaken the sleeping Knight-Captain, but time was running out. Why had Tie asked her to come here? She'd said she needed her.

She was caught flat-footed. The door was pulled open and a cloaked figure entered the room and walked briskly to the bed side. _Sit still, dummy,_ Neeshka chastised herself. _You're invisible, remember?_

Aelicia bent over the bed and spoke quietly to its occupant. Although she got no response, a quick look at the moon elf under the cover satisfied her and she turned to the door. The serving girl paused as if trying to make a decision, shook her head and left the room.

"She didn't see you," a voice from the bed informed the tiefling. "She probably smelled something different. But I can see that you've put on a pound or two." Tie was now sitting up in bed. She didn't look so bad awake, she just looked tired.

"Ahh, the queen of sensitivity," the rogue was put out. "I need a bath and I'm getting fat. Anything else I need to work on?"

"Loosen up on the gold you spend for potions; Are you trying to be invisible?" the moon elf knew the barb would miss, but threw it any way. She held out her arms and beckoned to her friend.

Neeshka stood a step from the bed, unsure of what to do next. "A lot has happened," she said slowly. "You have every reason to tell me to leave." Her voice broke on the last word.

Tiernah patted the bed and sat back against the pillows. "We need to sort this out. I have to find out what happened before I can tell you that I hate you and never want to see you again." Her smile told the tiefling not to take her seriously. "Come on... sit."

It all came out in a rush. "What was I supposed to do? I woke up and that shadow priest was going to get you, and you didn't care. He would have killed us, and then went after Nasher. He could get Nevalle for all I care, but you were out somewhere picking daisies. What was I supposed to do?" she finally wound down. "I didn't want to hit you... I didn't know what else to do." she said through her tears.

"Here, your eyes are leaking," the moon elf passed her a handkerchief. "The last thing I remember was staking those blademasters. You were out cold after the wraiths fell. What happened after that? I really don't remember. Nevalle has come up with a lot of half-baked nonsense. I need you to tell me the truth."

With a sense of relief, Neeshka picked up the story. When she got to the part about the confrontation with Nevalle, Tie's face was thunderous. Now the Knight-Captain understood why she had been deceived. Nevalle's loyalty was now in question, but she would have to tread lightly.

The rogue finished her tale with her trip to the guard room. The references to her friendship with Grobnar and how he would react to the door mechanism made Tie smile. Here were two lonely souls that were bound together by a common interest. A Githzerai aphorism came to mind; _There is strength in unity_. Together, Neeshka and Grobnar were a valuable asset.

"Our mighty Captain Nevalle should be ashamed of himself," Tie began. "He's of the opinion that you knocked a loyal member of the nobility in the head to plunder the riches of Castle Never. He's set the Nine on Axle's organization to prove it's true."

"When I gave the scepter and the greatsword to Lord Nasher, Nevalle almost had a fit. That knocked his conspiracy theory on its butt," Neeshka had to smile. "Does he hate tieflings so much that he'd throw it all away just to get me? That doesn't make any sense."

"I really don't know," the Knight-Captain replied. "But it all bears watching. There's more to it than we see right now. We better wrap it up, your potion's wearing off." She picked up her friend's hands and squeezed them. "Let's just sit back and wait for Nevalle's next move."

The rogue squeezed back. "No hard feelings?" The light was returning to her mood.

"Are you kidding?" the moon elf was serious. "I'd be mad if you ran away. Thanks for hanging in there."

Neeshka turned back from the door. "Oh, _Sundo en roch_, I want my stuff back, especially my sword."

"Done and done, You Baatezu, devil-spawn, half-breed witch," the Knight-Captain returned the courtesy.

The rogue smiled. "Huh, you didn't call me goat-girl," she said, closing the door.

Disclaimer; The elven translations used by the Knight-Captain were taken from the Grey Company's excellent Elven Dictionary, however, Neeshka's interpretation of _Sundo en roch _was the author's.

A/N Thanks again, Wyl. C.


	8. The Stable

Aelicia turned from the table where she'd just set the serving tray and called out, "Donel, don't be so shy; come on in and close the door." She looked up at Neeshka and smiled in apology. "I'm so sorry, Mi'Lady, he's a little slow-witted."

The serving girl was making a big show of pushing a well built half-elven boy into the room. The tiefling couldn't help but smile, she was enjoying the show. Her smile broadened considerably when she saw what he was carrying. _Tie came through. My armor and weapons, _Neeshka rejoiced.

Her eyes widened at what she saw; Her rogue links had been thoroughly cleaned, the leather, carefully oiled. The same was true of her battered old shoulder bag. Its frayed straps had even been replaced; It looked brand new. She was relieved to see her bow and short sword slung across the stable boy's broad back.

It gave the rogue pause to see the shining darksteel and duskwood inlays on the sword's scabbard. Even though they protected her back from the blade's lightning enchantment, those shining patches were visible at great distances. _I'll need to dull that beautiful work with stove-black again, _she lamented.

"It all goes over there," Aelicia directed her helper. Her affection for him showed in the way she spoke. It reminded the tiefling of a farmer guiding a treasured ox. "You're done here. Make your manners," she rubbed his back with a twinkle in her eye.

"Top of the mornin', my lady," he shyly intoned, sweeping into a surprisingly graceful bow that tugged at Neeshka's heart.

"Anything else, my lady?" the serving girl asked after ushering the stable boy out with the chamber pot. "He'll be back after he empties it," she giggled.

Thinking of the moon elf's off-hand comments from the night before, Neeshka sniffed and said, "Is there any way I can get a bath? I'm starting to itch."

"I wasn't going to mention it." Aelicia sniffed dramatically and they both burst out laughing. "I'll see about drawing a tub full this afternoon. It won't take long to heat." she promised.

* * *

Ammon Jerro was studying in his room at the Phoenix Tail Inn. These accommodations provided for him at Crossroad Keep by his newest ally, a Knight-Captain of Neverwinter, no less, were barely adequate. And where was the illustrious Knight-Captain? At this very moment, she was posturing with the other Noble fools at Castle Never, while he cooled his heels here. He would make very good use of his time though.

There was very little written about his interest, but he had enough material at present to keep him busy. Two clerical tomes that dealt with spirituality lay open before him. In his hands was a necromantic treatise on the afterlife. There were two references to reincarnation that were mentioned in both schools of thought. One reference could be a coincidence, but two were a cause for further study. The spirit of his slain grand-daughter awaited a new life.

A rapping on the door made him look up. "What is it?" he didn't bother to mask his irritation. He hated to be interrupted. He looked up and pretended to smile. _At least she's human,_ Ammon thought. Her mousy brown hair and gray eyes didn't appeal to him.

The young woman who entered was obviously with child. A fallen angel of the Neverwinter nobility, her taste for expensive clothes was an irritation. Her familiarity with him irritated even more. "Ammon, you promised to take me back to Blacklake. There's nothing but broadcloth in the shop here," her voice was almost a whine.

"The stage leaves for Neverwinter at noon tomorrow. You will have to wait until then." He'd forgotten that promise, if he'd ever made it. After seeing her reaction, his tone softened, "Please forgive me. I can't go with you. I am very close to a breakthrough here." He failed to tell her that his frustration at not finding the familiar was mounting. That damned devil and the vessel with Shandra's spirit had disappeared at the same time. Still, the woman's child was not due for at least two more months. After his child was born, he would not have any more use for its mother. He still had time to conduct a thorough search.

* * *

Neeshka was once again with the Knight-Captain in the guardroom. Castle Never, perched protectively on a hill overlooking Neverwinter, slept on around them. Tie now looked better. That used, tired appearance was fading as the days passed. Enforced rest was doing the moon elf a world of good.

"You summoned me, oh mighty one?" the tiefling sketched a mocking bow.

Tiernah ignored her behavior, knowing that it was a sign of good humor rather than a show of disrespect. That was just Neeshka's way. "Have you seen that familiar you named Moonbow lately?" she asked, pausing from her note writing.

"No, not lately," the rogue replied thoughtfully. "The last time I saw her was when you came out of the guardroom. She wasn't in my bag when I first looked for her at Lord Never's Tomb. I don't know where to start looking for her."

Tie put her writing aside, a concerned look was on her face. "Moonbow's instinct would tell her to go home. I bet she's at the Phoenix Tail in Crossroad Keep. As a matter of fact, I'm sure that is where she is."

Neeshka had a flash of intuition. "Does this have anything to do with your dreams?" she asked, looking down at the pile of notepaper on the side table.

"It has everything to do with my dreams. I believe Sehanine spoke to me last night. Moonbow needs a ride to Highcliff; Shandra's new life will begin there. Here is what we need to do," the moon elf said as she picked up her neatly printed notes and began her briefing.

* * *

The stable boy was in good spirits in spite of the early hour. He enjoyed being the first one in. Neverwinter's stable, with its warm smell of earth and animals, was quiet. Equine ears turned his way as he walked whistling to a stall with a gilt-edged sign that read; _Atara en Ohtarea_. Donel was unable to read, but he knew the elven script meant; _Mother of Warriors._

This stable housed some of the finest horses on the Sword Coast. '_Tara _was above them all, and not because she now belonged to him. Her cream-colored coat and dark sable mane, tail, and legs were associated with the Knight of Neverwinter, but her real hallmark was her size. She was bred to be able to carry a fully armed and armored knight into battle, and return him home safely. Although Donel was considered a big boy, when seated on her broad back, he looked like a small child.

Her life as a brood mare was in the past. Her daughters now filled that role. Her sons were known throughout the realm for their strength and intelligence. Trusting that there were many years left in one of his prize horses, Lord Nasher awarded her to the stable hand who had showed great valor in the recent Battle of Castle Never.

Donel had, upon seeing a cadre of shadow priests approaching the castle, locked the postern gate and sounded the alarm to rouse the guards. His actions, in Lord Nasher's estimation, had denied the enemy a victory. Legend had it that the guards found the stable boy on the parapet throwing large rocks down on the frustrated invaders as he screamed obscenities at them. Donel was so embarrassed by the guards' account, he denied the whole thing.

"Wake up, sweetheart. Let's get to work," he crooned to his most prized possession. Her rumbling nicker in return always lifted his spirits. After dumping a bucket of grain into her feed-box, he snapped her lead rope to the halter ring and tied the other end to a cleat fastened to the wall. "Rules... rules... rules," he grumbled good-naturedly. He had been told that chargers were to be tethered at all times because they were so unpredictable, but _'Tara _was a danger to no one. _Why her?_ he wondered. "Oh well," he sighed, picking up his brush and starting in on her coat.

"Donel, are you in here?" he recognized Aelicia's voice at once. _She's here early,_ he thought. _Better get her ride ready._ He hurried to finish _'Tara's_ coat. It wouldn't do to hold up his girl's outing due to his slowness. She had too little time off work anyway.

"She'll be ready in a flash," the stable boy called, not wanting to show he felt rushed. The last thing in the world he wanted was for his half-elf sweetheart to be upset with him.

"The braid in her tail looks great," he thanked her with a broad smile. _Less tangles to unsnarl, _his laziness added. "When you do the mane, she'll be parade ready," He finished the horse's forelock and bowed to his girl like a courtier.

Aelicia smiled with her heart at his antics. Most folks in Neverwinter thought of him as simple-minded, but around the horses, especially Lord Nasher's chargers, Donel possessed an almost magical touch. Even the nastiest stallion to ever wear the blue eye, _Tornado, _settled right down when the half-elf stable boy held his lead. Sir Grayson insisted that Donel saddle _'nado_ and pass up his lance at every tourney. Aelicia believed, with some pride, that that was why Sir Grayson was Neverwinter's champion.

"I won't be riding today, love," Aelicia told her Donel in a teasing tone. "But you will be. You're riding to Crossroad Keep on an important errand. Let's get you cleaned up and presentable."

* * *

At the same time that Donel was brushing his prized mare in Neverwinter, Rolan Edgewater awoke in familiar surroundings, his own bedroom at his parent's home in Highcliff. This was the same room he had grown up in, but his narrow child's bed had been replaced by his marriage bed three years ago, when his childhood sweetheart, Lillith, accepted his proposal.

His transition to married life had been smooth. His new wife's sweet temper enabled her to handle his thunderous mood swings with an ease that his moon-elf mother eventually accepted and finally became proud of. Rolan and Lillith were a good match, although there were times when the newlyweds had their disagreements. The scarred wallboard in their bedroom was proof of that.

Rolan stopped mid-way through his yawning, joint popping stretch, feeling a brief moment of panic, Lil wasn't here in the bed. _She's probably in the necessary,_ he reasoned._ She'll be back before long._ He finished stretching and sat up. There was about an inch of sand left in the top of the hourglass on the side-table. _Time to rise and shine,_ he told himself.

"Mornin' 'ta," Rolan stifled a yawn. "It seems I've misplaced a wife. Have you seen Lil?"

His mother looked up from her shopping list with her usual distracted expression. "She's upstairs, I think. She said something about having trouble sleeping. Do you think it's the baby?" his mother fretted.

"No, not this time." The father-to-be rolled his eyes. "Our Lillith is suffering from bad dreams; The Lunar Lady's curse," he intoned, like a long-suffering saint.

"Sehanine curses the unfaithful," his mother admonished. She'd always taken her chosen deity very seriously. "A warning in a dream is not a curse, but if one ignores that warning, the result could be called a curse."

"Sorry 'ta, I didn't quite mean it like it sounded." His apology sounded lame, even to him.

"Well, when you find her, tell her it's time to eat," Rolan's mother sighed. "That's going to be some baby. I've never seen a woman eat as much as Lillith does."

He nodded in agreement. His wife's appetite was legendary. Rolan's face clouded over when a thought occurred to him. He looked at his mother and asked, "Anyone seen the cat lately?"

"Rolan, that is not funny," she said, outraged, flapping her hand at him in a _go_ _away_ gesture.

He left with the conclusion that neither pregnant wives nor moon elf mothers had much of a sense of humor.

* * *

Lil was indeed upstairs. Many years ago, Rolan's father built a platform on the patio roof for his new wife. Being a moon elf, Rolan's mother loved it. She could see the entire sky at night, including her beloved moon. She'd furnished its raised floor with a comfortable chair, flanked by two silver planters, overflowing with Moonflower vines. She had also stacked several woven floormats in a corner for reverie and communion. This was his mother's upstairs.

Lillith had moved the chair to one side and now sat cross-legged on a mat in the center of the floor. Her half-elven beauty enthralled him now more than ever; It took his breath away. Her fair hair and skin, matched with beautiful pale gold eyes spoke of her sun elf heritage. She was also a quarter-drow, it sometimes showed in her temper, but not often.

He sat down, not wanting to disturb her enjoyment of the spectacular sunrise. "Hi sunny," he finally broke the silence.

"Hi yourself," her reply was neutral, belied by her bright smile. She continued watching the sun's ascent.

"Bad dreams?" he asked rubbing wider and wider circles on her back.

The silence stretched out as the sun slowly pulled itself above the horizon. This was a special time for his newly-minted wife; The start of a new day.

"Well, I can see you're busy." He stood up to leave.

Without a word, she took his hand, urging him to sit again. A minute later, she spoke, "Sehanine is speaking to me. I'm sure of it." His wife was having trouble finding the right words. "I just don't understand what Our Lunar Lady is trying to tell me."

"It's the same dream you had before, right?" He wasn't sure what to ask. The best he could do was reassure her that he was there.

Clutching her swollen middle protectively, she told him, "It's the tattooed one. I'm standing on a high castle wall looking down on a broad green pasture, and he's down below, looking up at me. He doesn't move; He just gazes at me calmly, but I can feel his... menace. I know he means to harm me and the baby. He calls up to me, 'Her spirit is for my child, not yours. On your life, stay away.'"

"Who is he? Have you ever seen him before?" her husband asked gently. He'd never seen her this upset about a dream before.

"No, he's a stranger," she replied, her brow furrowed. "But, somehow, I knew he was very powerful. Maybe he's a wizard, but I'm sure he's from the dark side." She shivered in her husband's arms.

She continued, "last night's dream was a little different. He was still watching me, but a child on a horse passed behind him. The child was so small, I was afraid he would fall off the galloping horse, but he managed to stay in the saddle. After the horse and rider passed, the wizard turned back to me with an evil smile on his face. It was then that he spoke to me again. All he said was, 'It is too late... It is done.' His hideous laughter woke me up and I haven't been able to sleep since."

"It's alright, I'm here. He will not harm you." Rolan assured is distraught wife, tightening his arms around her.

"You don't understand," she lamented, finally losing her composure. "I don't think anything or anyone can stop him; He's a demon." Then the tears came.

* * *

Neeshka sat quietly in her quarters located next to Lord Nasher's throne room, a glass of wine at her right hand. Aelicia would be appearing soon, hopefully with her beau, Donel. After being briefed by Tiernah last night, the rogue had slept fitfully. They'd spent some time making plans, influenced by the moon elf's most recent dreams.

Their plans revolved around finding Moonbow and delivering her from the danger that lived at Crossroad Keep. A safe haven for the familiar was with the Edgewater family in Highcliff, about a day's ride from Crossroad. Rolan Edgewater's mother was a sister moon elf; Tie had assured Neeshka that Moonbow would be safe there.

Grey Co. Elven Translations;

_Atara en Ohtarea-_Mother of Warriors (_'Tara-_fam. col. used by Donel.)

_atara-_mother (_'ta_-fam. col. used by Rolan.)


	9. Crossroad Library

Neeshka turned around and sat down after bolting the ready room door. Donel was on his way, his purpose was now clear. After delivering Lord Nasher's Hero's Proclamation to Lady Kana at Crossroad Keep, he was to look for Neeshka's lost _pet._ In this search, he was to avoid _the tattooed one_ at all costs- his life depended on it.

Donel also carried a detailed note from the Knight-Captain to her friends at Crossroad Keep. Though it was addressed to Khelgar Ironfist, it contained a passage in the Elven language that tasked them to find _The Book of Lul'een,_ an artifact that the group found in Riverguard Keep, located in the ruins of Arvahn. The book was now in the library at Crossroad Keep, under the watchful eye of Aldanon, a sage of some repute.

The stable boy did not know it yet, but he was to collect both the book and Neeshka's _pet_ and deliver them to the moon elves in Highcliff. Lord Nasher had cleared the Knight-Captain for travel now, and she would join them in Highcliff within a few days. She felt some urgency; The moon would be full within a tenday.

The most difficult decision Tiernah had to make was to leave Neeshka behind at Castle Never. The combination of her demon-heritage with elven high-magic could be deadly and explosive. Tie refused to take the chance. Neeshka had reluctantly agreed to stay behind and keep watch here.

Hearing a firm knock on the door, the rogue donned her cape and carefully adjusted the hood. Tucking her tail in, she sighed wearily and pulled back the bolt on the door. _I'll be glad when this is all over..._

* * *

It was Aelicia, being her usual sunny self, "My lady, may I present Mistress Ophala Cheldarstorn, Matron of the Moonstone Mask?" the serving girl could not keep the adoration from her voice.

The woman who entered was a true courtesan, her dress and manner spoke of a sophistication that was rare even in Neverwinter. "Neeshka, my dear," she admonished, pulling the rogue's hood back and kissing her cheek. "You should know better than to try and hide from me. I would know one of my girls anywhere. Let me get a good look at you."

The rogue stepped back, frowning. "I believe the word is _former._.. and certainly not _girl_." Her voice was edged with ice. _I'm not ready to deal with this. Hells...damn it... hells. _Her face betrayed her emotions.

"My dear, we need to clear the air here. We have much to discuss, you and I," Ophala's tone was soothing. "What have I done to make you so angry with me?" she asked with genuine concern.

"I won't discuss it, it's over now," Neeshka folded her arms and turned her back.

Her former madame stepped up and gently removed the rogue's black cloak, folded it, and carefully laid it on the bed. She placed her hands on Neeshka's shoulders and gently turned her around. "If you do not talk to me, how will I know what is bothering you?"

The tiefling did not resist. She was listening. "You know what I did. It was your business." She was looking sadly at the floor.

"What you did, young lady, was survive," Ophala said, pulling the tiefling's chin up to look directly into her eyes. "Look at it from my point-of-view, I took a starving, frightened young girl off the streets and showed her a world whose doors would have been not just closed, but locked to her as well." She winked and said, "You have learned about the true power in the realms. It is nothing to be ashamed of."

Neeshka blinked away the tears. She couldn't think of a thing to say. A thought occurred to her though; _For a society who hated her kind so much, why did they line up with gold in their pockets to be with her?_ She sadly shook her head.

"No one forced you, my dear." Ophala's sympathy showed in her eyes. "You left when you were ready."

"Still, it's not something I'm proud of," the rogue stated.

"Think about it for a minute, Little One," the courtesan posed. "What is shameful, working for me at the Mask, or being associated with Leldon and his thugs?"

"I did what needed to be done," the rogue was defensive. She could see Ophala's point; She had never killed any one at the Mask... on purpose, she amended with a chuckle.

"Don't you see Neeshka?" Ophala's voice held no reproach. "You had a choice to ally with the thieves... but that's a meaningless point now, is it not, Defender of Neverwinter?"

* * *

Khelgar Ironfist sat alone at a table in the common room at the Phoenix Tail Inn waiting to be served his mid-day meal. He stared restlessly out the window at the falling leaves being blown by a playful wind. There was still no word of the Knight-Captain, or even Neverwinter for that matter-Crossroad Keep was not that far away. Surely, they'd be the first to know.

The dwarf hadn't seen Neeshka for almost a ten-day. The devil-girl had disappeared within a day of the moon elf's departure. He was reluctant to admit that he missed the horns-and-tail with all that foolishness between, but in his own way, he did.

"It's pot-luck today," Sal apologized, setting the scorched pan on the table with a thump. "I don't know what's gotten into Qara. This is the second day that I haven't heard or seen her."

"Heh, you know the young folks," the dwarf commiserated. "They'll lay out 'til hunger sets them back to work, then you'll be trippin' over her. What am I goin' to eat with here, my fingers?" he asked, pretending to be cross.

Sal shook his head, his exasperation was real. "You know where it all is, help yourself. Maybe you could wash some of those dishes while you're at it." Seeing the dwarf's reaction, he shook his head and started clearing cluttered tables, grumbling to himself all the way.

The dwarf looked up and a smile spread across his face. "Well, hello twigs," he greeted Elanee heartily, standing up and grabbing a clean plate from the stack he'd set on the end of the table. "Ya must be hungry, eh?" he handed her the plate and stirred the stew with the ladle in the pot. "No meat just vegetables, right?" the dwarf asked with a wink.

"Uhh... right, thank you Khelgar," the wood elf replied, breaking off bread from a loaf on the table. Picking up a cup, she walked to the stove and poured tea from the kettle that sat on its top. She returned to the table to a chair the dwarf held for her. "Thank you, Khelgar," she was smiling, he was like this when lonely or restless. She didn't mind being an outlet for his attention.

"Ironfist, Khelgar Ironfist," there was a grey-cloak watchman standing just inside the front door, accompanied by a sturdy half-elf lad who smelled strongly of horse.

"Who wants to know?" the dwarf wasn't being mean, it was just his way.

"This lad here, his name is Donel," the watchman gestured to his companion, "has a message from the Knight-Captain to one Khelgar..."

"That's me," the dwarf interrupted. News from the Knight-Captain was what he was waiting for. He walked quickly across the common room. "What's the news of the battle? Who would dare to attack the throne itself?" They had only heard rumors from Castle Never.

"Shadow Priests, undead, and a shadow reaver, sound familiar?" Elanee spoke up from behind the dwarf.

Khelgar was perplexed. "How do you know, were you there?" He scratched his bald pate and turned back to the watchman.

"Donel here, rode in from Neverwinter with a proclamation written in Lord Nasher's very own hand. Lady Kana posted it in the square for everyone to read," the 'cloak replied. "Those that can read, I meant to say," he corrected, looking at Elanee.

"Well, I can read you know," the wood elf huffed, a cross look shaping her features.

"Your pardon, I didn't..." the watchman's face was turning red.

"The message," the dwarf interrupted, holding out a battle hardened hand. Dwarves were not known for their patience and Khelgar's was shorter than most.

The young lad dug around in a shoulder bag that looked and smelled vaguely familiar and came up with a sealed note. He recoiled when the dwarf all but snatched it from his hand.

"Khelgar, mind your manners," Elanee was shocked. Was this the same man who'd greeted her a short while ago?

"My apologies," the dwarf mumbled. "You know..." He left the statement unfinished.

"That's alright," the lad sympathized." You're worried about your friends. I would be too." His simple way of speaking was straight from the heart.

The dwarf quickly scanned the note, his face a study in concentration. When he looked at the wood elf, she raised an eyebrow. He handed over the message and waited while she carefully read it.

"Huh, did I read that right?" the dwarf grunted. "We wait here and just let things happen? Shouldn't we be doing something?"

"Calm down, Khelgar," the druid's voice was firmer than her usual tone. "We are here to keep an eye on Tiernah's flank. The note says it will take some time for her to heal, but there's something else going on."

"So we wait," the dwarf couldn't hide his disappointment."Keeping an eye on that tattooed warlock just isn't my style."

"You failed to read all of the note, my dwarven friend," the wood elf reproved. She lowered her voice to a whisper for the dwarf's ear alone, "we are also tasked to help master Donel find Neeshka's pet. The one she named Moonbow for an obvious reason. After we eat, we need to see Aldanon about a book."

"Alright lass, an army marches on its stomach," the dwarf returned to his meal.

Elanee dug into her belt pouch and produced a gold coin. "Sal," she raised her voice. "you have a paying customer up front." She smiled brilliantly at Donel and continued, "He'd like a bath and a bed for the night."

The innkeeper was all smiles now at the sight of the coin, "There's a bed in room three with Khelgar that he can have for free, but the bath and the food will cost. If that's all right with the dwarf."

"That's alright with me," Khelgar was cordial. "Uhh... you don't snore do you, lad?"

The youngster, who had been listening intently to the whole exchange, shyly shook his head and mouthed, _no._

* * *

In the Crossroad Keep library Elanee sneezed twice in quick succession, "Ugh, dust and mold, let's finish and get out of here." Her eyes were watering.

Aldanon was standing on a short ladder shelving books from a large pile on the table in the corner. "My assistant has lost his way home again, I say, would you be so kind as to hand me those Divination Repository Indices. There's a good girl. Thank you... Oh, bless you," he passed the druid a clean handkerchief for her sneezes.

"We're looking for a book," Elanee managed to say before another fusillade of sneezes overtook her.

"Oh dear, this won't do," the old sage sympathized, leading her from the stacks into a small, well lit study. Khelgar followed closely behind, not saying a word.

After her reaction had abated somewhat, she repeated her request, "Master Aldanon, the Knight-Captain sent me to find a book that she brought back from Arvahn. Do you remember it?"

"Well... if you want a book, a library is a good place to find one, I always say," he answered, looking at Elanee thoughtfully. "An adventure, maybe? Or a romance? It's all here. This is the biggest collection..."

"Master Aldanon, please," she interrupted, rolling her eyes at Khelgar, who just stood there and grinned broadly. "We're looking for a book titled; _The Book of Lul'een._ It was written by an elf named _Balaur._ The Knight-Captain gave it to you for safekeeping."

The old sage tapped his chin with a forefinger, a thoughtful look replaced the confused one. "I don't seem to recall... how would I have filed it? Can you tell me a little more about this book?"

"It is about the spirits of Arvahn... of Illefarn. The Knight-Captain is the reincarnation of a moon elf spirit who was the lady love of the man who became the guardian..." Elanee seemed to have run out of words, she sneezed again.

"Bless you... Now I have it." Aldanon's face lit with recognition. "There is a whole series of tomes, written by this _Balaur_ fellow. I really like his tone and style, by the way. They'll be in the Illefarn section. It's woefully thin, but I guess it's better than none. What was the title again? Sorry."

The druid blew her nose rather noisily. "_The Book of Lul'een,"_ she repeated, glaring at Khelgar, who was busily examining his boots and doing a poor job of suppressing his mirth.

"Oh yes, that's right," the sage said brightly. "I'll be right back." He swept from the room, closing the door quietly.

* * *

"So, what does that old book have to do with us staying here and watchin' 'ol tattoo face?" the dwarf challenged. The part of Tie's note that mentioned this was written in a language Khelgar didn't understand.

"It's complicated," the wood elf mused. "but the idea is to find the book and send it and Moonbow to Highcliff with that young fellow, Donel. Tiernah doesn't want Ammon Jerro to know where the book or the familiar are going. She mentioned something about Shandra, but the ink was smudged... I don't know..." Elanee shook her head. "I hope we're not missing something."

"So it's about the farm girl, and the Knight-Captain doesn't trust the warlock," Khelgar concluded. "I don't trust him either, he killed his own kin." The dwarf crossed the room to look out the window. He then added, "I don't understand why we're not on our way to Highcliff, we'll do more good there, I'd be willin' to bet."

"That note was almost an order," the druid replied. "We are to stay here and watch Ammon Jerro. If he leaves, we follow him. If he is bound for Highcliff, We delay him at all costs and send a warning ahead to the Edgewater family. Tie's language was very strong on this..."

She was interrupted by the return of Aldanon. "Ahh, it was right where I left it," he said loftily. "This is one of the most beautifully bound tomes I've had the pleasure to catalog. The story it tells is tragic, and it helps fill in some history of Arvahn. Some conspiracy it was..."

"Thank you, Master Aldanon," Elanee was relieved to see the book. It was a leather-bound tome with a small blue faceted stone centered on the cover. The title; _The Book of Lul'een_ was traced in fine silver script, called _Espruar,_ above the stone. The name _Balaur_ was lettered at the bottom of the cover. "Thank you again Master Aldanon," She said, turning to leave. "The Knight-Captain will return it when this is all over."

"Can you tell me why the Knight-Captain needs the book?" the sage was eager to get involved. "Maybe she needs me to do some research," he said hopefully.

"She hasn't said," Elanee stretched the truth a bit. "But I'm sure she will fill us all in when this is all over."

"Oh, well," Aldanon was disappointed. "I will be here if you need me," he said to the closed door.

* * *

The afternoon and a good part of the evening had passed while Khelgar and Elanee were at the Library. The half-moon was visible through an occasional gap in the gathering clouds. "Rain before morning," the druid pronounced. "I feel something that is more unsettled than the weather, though. Now all we need to do is find Moonbow, she's here somewhere."

"Can't help you there," the dwarf replied, as he opened the door to the Inn's common room, ushering her inside. "You know more about that than I do. What was that about the fiendling's pet? You mean that stoat with the funny eyes? I haven't seen it lately."

Elanee stepped into the hallway leading to the back bedrooms, quickly pulling at the dwarf's tunic. "Khelgar... he's here. Come on," she hissed, taking off down the hall at a fast trot.

"Here now, slow down, damn it," the dwarf protested. "What are you on about? Have you lost your wits?" He had to really work to keep up with the long-legged wood elf.

When they got to Khelgar's room, they entered and closed the door. The stable boy had fallen asleep on the dwarf's bed. Apparently he'd taken his bath; He no longer smelled like his mount.

"Ammon Jerro is in the common room," Elanee intoned. "He is drinking with Bishop in the far corner."

"Well that's a load off my mind," the dwarf said with mock seriousness. "It'll be easier to keep an eye on him if we know where he is. Huh, what is it now?" The dwarf had noticed Elanee standing next to his bed where Donel lay sleeping.

She pointed down at something that was on the bed beside the sleeping stable boy. "There she is, the search is over," Elanee said, sitting down on the bed. The druid made a strange sound much like that of the familiar and it answered her. Elanee smiled when Moonbow ran up her arm to her shoulder. "That's quite a trip, all the way to Neverwinter and back to Crossroad," the druid marveled.

Donel sat up and looked around the strange room. "I guess that's the pet I was supposed to find." his voice was fuzzy with sleep. "She.. must have crawled into that bag the spirit lady gave me to bring here. I left the bag on the bed to go take a bath, and when I came back and hung it up on the bed-post, she jumped out. It sounded like she was fussing at me, so I just left her alone."

"It's all here now, so after a good night's sleep, master Donel, you have one more stop to make at Highcliff," Elanee said as she tucked Tie's precious book, wrapped in a protective oilcloth into Neeshka's shoulder bag. "Moonbow doesn't mind riding in this bag, that's probably why it was sent here with you. Listen carefully now..."


	10. ExtraPlanar

Ammon Jerro was not feeling well this morning. He sat very still at a table in his small room at the Phoenix Tail Inn with his pounding head in his hands. He lacked the will to even look for the jar of analgesic powder he kept for infrequent headaches. He considered the time spent last night plying that worthless excuse for a ranger, Bishop, with drinks a waste of time. The warlock didn't know any more about where the devil-girl was than he already knew, and now he had a vicious hangover for his trouble.

A muffled sneeze made Ammon raise his aching head and look around. _Probably that fire-haired, scatterbrained sorceress, _he dismissed the intrusion. _When she expires, I'll feed her wretched remains to the worgs in Cania. Her last mistake in this life was tangling with this traveler of the planes._ The agony that her soul would endure there pleased him immensely.

If Ammon had looked up, he'd see two pair of eyes at the crack in his partially open room door. "The lock was easy, now it's up to you," the high pitched voice of a gnome was plain.

"Ssshh... Grobnar, quiet." Only Elanee could hiss like that. The well modulated tones of an incantation drifted up from behind the door.

A chittering, angry sound coming from a cage in the corner of the room assaulted the warlock's frayed senses. There seemed to be a low, humming tone under the sound of the agitated familiar. Ammon looked around for something, a shoe, anything to heave at the cage to shut that damned animal up. _That hells blasted noise is driving me insane, _was Ammon Jerro's last thought before Elanee's sleep spell took him.

"Grobnar, can you calm that animal and let it out please? It sounds so frantic." The druid was leaning over the sleeping warlock, to make sure her spell was effective. She wasn't sure why Ammon had placed no wards in his room; Was he that arrogant, or did he just forget?

The gnome's song quieted the fussing animal in short order. That soothing melody stopped abruptly when Grobnar unlocked a wardrobe that had been pushed out of the way into a corner. "Oh gods and little fishes," he exclaimed with a catch in his voice, he sounded quite ill, "Qara... is that Qara?"

* * *

"So, Little One," Ophala was looking around the room as she spoke. "I will conclude by saying that I am very proud of you and your accomplishments. Very few are able to overcome their poor decisions and... their unfortunate heritage like you have," she said, looking sternly at the tiefling. "Some of your good fortune was luck, granted, a very little; Meeting up with the Knight-Captain set your feet on the path of light, but most of your good fortune was your own hard work, and I applaud you."

_Here comes the knife, Little One,_ Neeshka's tail twitched. _Watch your back. _The rogue stood up and opened the wine rack and withdrew the bottle and crystal glasses that she had become so familiar with. "Thank you, Matron of the Mask," Neeshka addressed her formally. "May I offer a fine vintage in celebration?" she asked, a smile lighting her face.

"Why yes," Ophala was beaming. "Please... please, open the bottle and let it breathe for a moment while I present Lord Nasher's offer." The courtesan was looking at Neeshka thoughtfully, choosing her words.

The rogue carefully drew the cork, it wouldn't do for her to fumble it. "It must have placed our Lord in a tight spot to have a tiefling pass the test in Neverneath. Nevalle was livid. I still can't figure out what he's got against me."

"Dear sweet Nevalle... ahem, _Sir_ Nevalle," Ophala's mocking voice made them both laugh. "He first thought you were some devil-spirit, hell-bent on burning Neverwinter to the ground. Now that he knows who you are, he says you are not worthy of any position within Lord Nasher's realm. To him, you are a lowly thief, not worth his time. I am here to set him straight." there was steel in her last statement.

"Better you than me," Neeshka said, thinking, _There's more to this woman than she's letting on. _"I'm glad I don't have to deal with _Sir _Nevalle every day."

"It's what I do," Ophala dismissed the thought. "He's not that hard to deal with, believe me, there are bigger dragons to battle right here in Neverwinter, and that brings me to why I'm here."

_Huh.. a frontal assault, shields to the fore,_ the rogue thought. "About time you got to the point, ambassador, I'm flattered," the rogue teased with a wry smile.

Ophala smiled at the tiefling's light hearted banter. "I'm sure you remember when your group assisted the Many Starred Cloaks in capturing Crossroad Keep. We are now sure that the Luskans were directly involved. Their penetration of Neverwinter's flank from the south has Lord Nasher and his advisors very... concerned."

"If I remember, there was some high level necromancy involved. What were those evil wizards called? ...oh yeah, shadow reavers." The rogue was proud of her group's part in that ordeal.

"My reports stated that there were locked doors between the Many Stars and a victory. A certain... how did Nathe put it? Devil-girl opened the doors like they had no locks. It seems that said devil-girl also saved quite a few lives from a trapped door in the basement." Ophala had a theatrically thoughtful look on her face. "Maybe Nathe really meant to say a tiefling, Hmm?"

The rogue deftly sidestepped Ophala's ego-trap. "There weren't that many locked doors, but the escape tunnel had a few alarms, I wouldn't have called them traps though," she said with a casual shrug.

The courtesan smiled, gladdened by the rogue's humility; It was just what she was looking for in a leader. "My dear, that group of magicians are my finest arcane warriors. They are not easily fooled and it takes a lot to impress them. The Knight-Captain's group in general, and you in particular, have earned their respect. How did Nathe say it... 'We could assault the nine hells with them and come back alive.' They do not give higher praise than that."

"So, now that I'm basted... into the oven?" the rogue asked with raised eyebrow.

Ophala's laugh was cheerful. "My dear Neeshka always the cynic." She forced a stern look, then said, "I owe you the truth, then. Lord Nasher was in a quandary when presented with you. Earning the title of Defender of Neverwinter, in spite of what Sir Nevalle thinks, entitles you to some rank within his realm. How do I say this...hit it head on 'phala," she said, raising her chin, "There would be some objection to granting you a rank. There would be potential harm to both you and the realm if this was not handled carefully."

"And how am I to be _handled_?" she asked, the hurt surfacing once again. "It comes down to being... _handled?"_ Her voice was rising.

"No... you are _not_ being handled," Ophala answered, her stern look told the tiefling, _Do not disappoint me._ "My Lord Nasher is concerned about your feelings. _That_ is why I'm _here_."

Neeshka sighed, "Let me guess... back to the Mask to star in the floor show, my name, drawing admirers from near and far..." She interrupted herself, looking wistfully up at the ceiling. "Sorry... mistress Ophala, please continue."_ Dummy, thy name is Neeshka, _she chastised herself.

"I'm glad to see you have better control of yourself, dear," the courtesan observed with some approval. "My solution, it has met Lord Nasher's approval by the way, is to place you in charge of a small group of The Many Starred Cloaks headquartered within Crossroad Keep. It bears the rank of lieutenant and the chain of command will be from the Knight-Captain of Crossroad to me and then to Lord Nasher himself. Nathe will be your sergeant, he specifically volunteered. All this is on your acceptance, of course."

"But, I'm not a mage. I know nothing of arcanery," Neeshka objected. "Why would mages follow a... thief."

"You are not a thief, anymore, lieutenant, The Knight-Captain tells me that you are one of the finest scouts she has ever known." Ophala was smiling again. "And the Many Stars trust you to keep them safe. Let them take care of the... _arcanery_, you will just lead them." she picked up the bottle of wine. "Can I tell Our Lord Nasher that you have accepted?"

After the rogue nodded, Ophala poured for them both.

* * *

"Something tells me this isn't Crossroad Keep," Grobnar whispered, sounding like a lost child. The more he looked around, the deeper his frown became. He sensed two others with him in this stifling hot, dimly lit room. Sullen red fissures split the walls of the cavern that held them prisoner. The gnome had never considered himself claustrophobic, but these walls appeared to be closing in. He knew that he was running on will power alone here.

Elanee was bent over administering healing and aid to the sobbing girl that they found in Ammon Jerro's room at the Phoenix Tail Inn. She had been bound and gagged after enduring a severe beating, and stuffed into a wardrobe, apparently left to die.

"Qara... are you alright?" the gnome's voice was barely under control. "How could he... how could he do such a thing?"

When the sorceress looked up at him, he recoiled at the look of misery mixed with anger that her face displayed. Anger like that could smolder for a lifetime. She wasn't inclined to answer him.

The druid's ministrations were having a positive effect on the badly mauled sorceress. Elanee looked up at Grobnar, her face held no reproach. Her question for him was unspoken.

The gnome shrugged; He didn't understand what had happened, but he had a suspicion. "I'm so sorry, I didn't realize that wardrobe was trapped..."

"We're alive, Grobnar," the druid interrupted him. "That's a good start. Can you take a look around? We need to find a way out." She hoped that giving him something to do would take his mind off their present situation.

She turned back to Qara, who looked like she felt a little better. "What happened to you? Do you know where we are?"

"Oh gods, that bastard Jerro," she moaned, wiping her badly bruised face, wincing at the pain her own touch caused. "He had Tamin in a cage. You know that I can see and hear through my familiar, so I could see that Jerro was researching some infernal ritual; Something that had to do with spirits and the afterlife. You also should know that he studied at the Academy of Shapers and Binders in Thay. That's a scary bunch of wizards if you ask me."

"What did he want with Tamin?" Elanee was intrigued. _Did the warlock confuse Qara's familiar with Moonbow? Aside from their eyes, they look very much alike._

"Jerro was probably after that other fam'; The one the demon-spawn was trying to hide," Qara concluded. She painfully rose to her feet with Elanee's help. "I found Tamin in Jerro's room. Jerro found me in his room and..." she closed her eyes and left the rest unfinished.

"Let's get you out of here, my sleep spell should hold Jerro for a few more hours," the druid consoled, helping Qara along.

Half way down the tunnel they met Grobnar, breathless with his discovery; "There's a door at the end of this passage." he said pointing to the tunnel on the right. "It's not locked, that's the way out. I'm sure of it"

Grobnar's discovery was an ancient cold-iron entry cover, so old, it appeared to be more rust than iron. Bright gouges in its surface showed recent attempts to batter it open.

"You said it was unlocked gnome," Qara was regaining some of her former morale. "Something big has been knocking on this door. Did you actually open It?" she challenged.

"Yes, mistress Qara, the lock is broken," he said pushing the door open with a grating sound from its rusted hinges. "See... there's nothing here..."

The gnome's assurance was interrupted by a bestial roar that shook the walls, threatening everyone's hearing. The infernal being that was guarding this room was a stout humanoid with ram's horns on his head. A nimbus of fire surrounded his scaly torso. His tail cracked like a whip. Gnomes were evidently a part of his diet, he advanced to the scarred door.

"Grobnar, get away from the door... get down." Elanee's voice was hard for the gnome to hear. The fiend was almost to the door as the gnome dropped to the floor and rolled to his left, his song of discord was just beginning to form on his lips.

Qara's exhaustion was forgotten as she focused. _Fire.. opposition cold. Fire... opposition ice, _Her mind recited.A deadly calm settled over her. Cold was not her forte, but their lives were at stake here. As she started channeling her energy, she heard the druid's chant faintly, as if they were far apart.

The fiend was stopped in mid-stride, frozen solid by the combination of a cold beam spell from the sorceress and an ice storm spell from the druid. The crackling of breaking ice was getting louder as the gnomes song of discord worked up in power. At the song's peak, the frozen fiend tumbled to the stone floor, shattering on impact. The pieces began melting immediately into lumps of sticky red gore.

Elanee managed to catch the fainting sorceress before she hit the floor. "Grobnar, make sure there aren't any more of those devils around," she called, _Silvanus be thanked, but we're not out of darkwood yet._ She turned to Qara and opened her belt pouch.

* * *

After reviving the sorceress, Elanee stepped into the chamber beyond the scarred door. It was circular in shape with a mosaic of reddish tiles set into the smooth stone floor. "What is this room for?" the druid asked. When she looked at the gnome, he just shrugged.

Qara recognized the tiles' pattern right away. "It's a planar portal," she explained, her weariness not showing now. Pointing to the large ring of square tiles in the center, she said, "this is the target for my spells." After examining them more closely, she continued, "These round ones," she pointed to three tiles near the door; A black tile in the center, flanked by a white one on the right and a red one on the left. "Are where the _sorceress_ stands when casting a spell to unlock the portal." Qara was personalizing again—Grobnar rolled his eyes.

"Do the colors for the round ones mean anything?" the gnome asked with real interest.

"Yes," the battered girl replied, showing her impatience. "If you want to die, stand on the black tile and cast any spell. It's a trap designed for fools."

"So, how do we get out of here?" Elanee wanted to know. "How do we find out where the other spots lead to?"

Qara was a little more tolerant of the wood elf. "I'm not sure... all I know is the circular black tile is off limits. See the black bars on the inside of all the tiles in the circle? They mean that an opposition spell triggers them. The white tile's opposite is fire, while the red tile's opposite is ice."

"Would the destinations be related to the spells?" Grobnar asked. "An ice spell is _home,_ so to speak, and a fire spell is the _next step_, maybe to the hells?" He shuddered.

"You're close," the sorceress replied. "The color of the _tile_ sets the destination, that's another trap. The ice spell triggers the red, I don't think we want that."

"Great," the gnome enthused, "So, it's stand on the white spot and cast fire at the circle to get _home_. Mistress Qara, you're quite good at this."

In spite of her misery the sorceress preened, "Thanks, now stand back and enjoy the show." She didn't see Elanee mouth, _Good job,_ to Grobnar behind her back. Holding out her hands, palms up, Qara toed the white tile, and began to slowly channel her energy at the circular target. She carefully fed more power until a roaring vortex appeared in the air above it. After she damped the fire back down, she turned to her companions and bowed theatrically. "It's done, let's get out of here... who's first?"

"Bravo, mistress, you made that look so easy," the gnome gushed. "Last one in is a..." his statement was cut off as he ran across the room and jumped into the noisy portal.

"See you on the other side," Elanee intoned, saying a silent prayer to _Silvanus_, as she stepped into the void.

"Here I come, you tattoo-faced, soulless bastard," Qara cursed as she walked up to the portal and jumped in with both feet.

* * *

The newly-minted Knight-Captain Lady Tiernah Lunedoptera, returned from reverie slowly, the candle's afterimage was still in her eyes. As her vision slowly cleared, she stretched languidly and stood up. After pulling on her working uniform, a careworn monk's robe of coarse undyed linen with dark brown sleeves and leggings, she did a fast series of warm up exercises. She'd decided to travel to Highcliff today.

Aelicia was due anytime now with the morning meal and maybe word about Donel. He should be at Crossroad now, preparing for his ride to Highcliff. Tie was planning to get to the village at about the same time as the stable boy. There was still time left, the moon was at three-quarters.

During reverie, her visions had made an impression on her. In her latest vision, a young fair-haired woman played in a garden of closed moonflowers with a beautiful, laughing baby girl. In another vision, a young man with dark hair and slate grey eyes set in an elven face looked down in wonder at his new baby girl. That moment of recognition between father and daughter gladdened Tiernah's heart. These three were her focus right now. _When Sehanine speaks, the wise listen, _was an old moon elf saying. The Knight -Captain understood what _The Daughter of the Night Skies _was telling her.


	11. Highcliff

The spider slept a dreamless sleep. She was a stalker, not a web spinner, so most of her time was spent in a state of near death that resembled sleep in other creatures. Bred by the drow in the Underdark as a cavalry mount, she had been extensively trained just like the horses that the humans and the elves used.

She and her rider had been dispatched to search for a relic of some power known as the glowstone. In the caverns beneath the village of Ember, they had been very close to that relic—The spider felt its power confusing and sickening her rider. When the goblins that were defending the relic attacked them, she broke training and left her rider to his fate. Suffering from the effects of the goblins' magic, she escaped and crawled to the end of a side passage before falling unconscious.

The goblins never found her, but a group of elven adventurers did. Soothing sympathetic thoughts emanated from a pale skinned, red haired female elf who stopped the pain and gave her live food. Although this elf did not want to bond telepathically, the spider's offer, she understood, calling the offer _Kistrel. _In spite of the elf's refusal, the spider followed the group back to their home at Crossroad Keep, where she was stabled in the basement.

The spider's sleep was interrupted by a pulse in the thin force separating the planes. As she raised up and turned toward the portal, the runes painted on the floor glowed a dull red. The air above the portal shimmered as it opened and spat out a gnome.

"...a rotten egg." the gnome seemed to be talking to someone. He rolled several times across the room and fetched up against the spider's forelegs. As she had been trained, she curled her right foreleg under and held it steady, inviting him to mount up. To her, his thoughts were a jumble of noise that made no sense.

Grobnar's first reaction was to retreat... quickly. Here was probably the largest spider he'd ever seen up close, but this one seemed familiar. After recovering from his rough landing and the shock of seeing such a large predator, he took a closer look.

_"Kistrel_... is that you?" the gnome asked, taking a tentative step forward.

The spider lowered her head and touched her mandibles to the floor in supplication, and again curled her right forefoot under and held it steady.

When Grobnar was a child, he'd hidden from a drow attack on a gnome logging camp where his family lived. The dark elves that he'd seen were mounted on spiders like _Kistrel._ After they'd finished looting, the elves had mounted up and ridden away. Those spiders had done then what _Kistrel_ was doing now.

In imitation of what he remembered, the gnome boldly stepped up onto the spider's foreleg and eased down onto her back...

* * *

After calling the newlyweds and getting no answer, Isilme'len Edgewater concluded that her children were upstairs, communing... again. Although her son, Rolan, and his wife, Lillith, had been married for three years now, they behaved like their vows were spoken only yesterday. To her, they were still newlyweds.

Lillith, representing the daylight side of the family, lived to see the sun rise every morning. However, she sided with her in-laws in their choice of worshiping _The Daughter of the Night Skies—Sehanine Moonbow._ Rolan, the ever dutiful husband and father-to-be, enjoyed the time the two of them spent together every morning, before setting off to work at his family's trading company on the Highcliff waterfront.

Isilme'len's husband, retired Captain Martin Edgewater, formerly master of _His Majesty's Northern Falcon,_ was out adventuring; His term for traveling to promote his new trading company; _Edgewater Imports_. He would be returning from Waterdeep within the ten-day, hoping to close a deal to supply iron implements to the Lizardfolk living south of _The Mere of Dead Men._

Rolan's mother didn't mind the separation from her roaming husband as much as when, in the earlier years of their marriage, he was at sea. The time they were apart was now much shorter and her son and his expectant wife kept her busy.

Like most elven mothers-to-be, Lillith didn't slow down one bit; She was everywhere, working, playing, helping out, and getting into mischief- It was just her nature. Her friends called her _Sunny. _It was her nature and her heritage. Rolan couldn't have found a better wife.

Upon passing through the patio to the back gate, Rolan's mother called upstairs, "I'm on my way to the bakery now. I'll be back at mid-day." She smiled when she heard a muffled reply and continued through the back gate and down the path.

* * *

The path to the bakery led past Par's house and around to the north-facing pantry door. A thin wisp of smoke from the chimney showed that her business partner, Adriella, had arrived first and was warming the ovens for today's work. Business was so good that lately they'd changed from baking every third day to every other day now. Also, what had been a front porch on the residence-turned-bakery had been closed in, making room for four more tables to seat dine-in customers.

"Morning E'len, you have a customer waiting in the dining room," Adriella called from the pantry, where she was shifting bags of flour around, grumbling all the while. No matter how carefully Rolan stacked them, the dwarf always found their arrangement not to her liking.

Rolan's mother was just passing through the door to the converted front porch when she heard. "_Vedui, Isilme'len. Cormamin lindua ele lle. _The woman who spoke was a moon elf with coal black hair and stunning blue eyes. She was dressed in a well worn tan monk's robe with brown sleeves. A beautiful pale gold cape was secured by a silver full moon clasp at her throat.

"_Tiernah! Nae saian luume', seler'rim. _She embraced her visitor with obvious pleasure and kissed her cheek in greeting. "Why didn't you come to the house? Rolan and Lil will be glad to see you."

"I didn't want to be rude... you know, coming unannounced. Judging by your surprise, my messenger Donel hasn't gotten here yet?" Tie asked, worried.

"No, nobody that I've seen," E'len was thoughtful. "Maybe we could talk the Elder into sending out a patrol," she mused. "Where is he coming from?"

"He'll be along, I'm sure. I sent him from Neverwinter to Crossroad Keep four days ago, and by now he should be almost here." Tie concluded. "I'll give him another day before assuming the worst."

"Well, let's get you settled in. I'm sure you could use a bath and some rest. We have a spare bedroom that you're welcome to." Rolan's mother was already making plans.

* * *

_Sehanine Moonbow_ was perfection. Her beauty turned heads wherever she went. _Corellon Larethian_, knowing this, continued his perusal of the far horizon as she approached.

"Come now, _Cory_..." she began, her voice was silk. "Can a haggard old crone like me get an audience with the ruler of Arvandor, for just a moment?" she asked, putting on a pout.

"I suppose so," he returned, feigning distraction. Teasing _Sehi'_ was one of his favorite pastimes. "What is it that worries you so, _Ithilamin_? You look very concerned." He continued to contemplate the splendor that was Arvandor.

"A petition for _templa tel'Quessir. _There is this spirit, a noble human spirit..." she interrupted her thought, the pout on her lovely countenance deepened. She then stamped her foot to gain his attention. "Well, if you will not listen..." she snapped in a manner not befitting her station. She knew how to play _Corellon's_ game as well as he. She turned and slowly walked to the door.

He caught up with her before she gained the door. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he gently turned her around. His mirth, showing in a dazzling smile and twinkling eyes, did nothing to erase her pout. "What is it, _Melamin_, something about your _pets_?" he asked, continuing his game. He knew that reference irritated her to distraction.

"My dear husband, they are _not_ my _pets. _It is time to be serious now," she'd had enough of his game. "This deserves your full attention." With that, she told him her desire.

* * *

Donel, the stable-boy-turned-messenger, stood at the Edgewater's front door in the village of Highcliff, looking forlornly at his dirty, worn riding boots. The cloth cap that he twisted between his callused hands was taking a real beating. He knocked on the door once again, just to be sure that he'd been heard.

He was late arriving, but surely the Knight-Captain would understand that his mount was lame and needed attention. The old pensioner at the stable told him that _'Tara _had just thrown a shoe, and the farrier would have it right again in no time. Still, that didn't stop him from worrying about her. He'd walked her the last half of the trip just to be on the safe side.

He immediately recognized the woman who answered the door. _That's Lillith, will she remember me? _He wondered; It had been a long time since he'd left the orphanage here in Highcliff.

"Donel, we've been waiting for you. Where have you been? Come on in." Her sunny voice would carry all the way to the waterfront if she wasn't careful. She took his arm and escorted him through the sitting room to the kitchen, where Rolan, Rolan's mother, and the Knight-Captain were sitting around the table, eating a quick mid-day meal. He did his best to explain to Lil why he was so late.

"Ladies and... uhh, _gentle_ man," Lillith announced, making a face at her husband. When they all looked up, she continued with a merry voice, "May I present master Donel of Neverwinter? He's just come from Crossroad Keep with an important despatch from master Ironfist to the Knight-Captain. He begs our forgiveness for his tardiness, claiming a casualty to his faithful mount, which, he assures me is not fatal."

At Lil's mixture of silliness and decorum, Donel looked ready to bolt out the back door, but she held his arm tightly, preventing his escape. She smiled up at him and slyly winked; She was really enjoying this, even if he wasn't.

After they all said their hellos, Lil did the introductions; "This is my mother-in-law, Isilme'len, you know the Knight-Captain, Lady Tiernah, and that scruffy looking fellow in need of a shave and a bath is my husband, Rolan." Their guest didn't notice Lil sticking her tongue out at her husband, who pretended to ignore her completely.

Donel was all business. "My Lady, Knight-Captain," he said, unlimbering the leather bag that he'd been entrusted with. "I am sorry for being late... my horse pulled up lame... and I had to walk the last few miles." he stammered, obviously upset. "I hope this is not too late."

After a quick look into the bag, Tiernah smiled and said, "You did fine, soldier of Neverwinter, thank you. See to your mount, get a room at the Inn, and I'll talk with you in the morning."

A heavy load had been lifted from his shoulders when he handed that bag over. "Thank you, My Lady. I will see you tomorrow," he said with some relief as Lil led him to the front door.

* * *

Lady Tiernah sat cross-legged on the bed in the Edgewater's guest bedroom in Highcliff, _The Book of Lul'een _was lying face up in her lap. She'd awakened from a reverie that brought back a rush of memories, influenced by the presence of the tome. Because it spoke of a great wrong committed in ancient Arvahn, this book was a monument to the darkness banished by _Sehanine's_ light, wielded by the Knight-Captain's group of adventurers.

_All this time I've had this book and never once thought to touch the stone,_ Tiernah wondered, shaking her head. Taking a tiny dagger in hand, the moon elf carefully removed the small blue gem from the book's cover. This gem was the true purpose for her presence in Highcliff. Known as a _telkiira_ or _loregem, _could it unlock the secrets of elven high-magic?

When she folded her fingers around the beautifully worked gem and opened her mind, it revealed that it held the secrets of spiritual transference. Her wonder grew as she paged through its vast store of knowledge. Of particular interest was _A Ritual of Petition to Sehanine __Moonbow._

The Knight-Captain now had the answers to her questions; _Why, how, where, and when_ would the spirit be transferred_? _

The answer to _why_ was that Shandra Jerro's noble sacrifice cried out for a continuation of her life in a higher form; Her life cycle must continue. The _how _was easy; _The Ritual of Petition to Sehanine Moonbow _was _how_. It needed to be performed _where_ the evil influence of the shadows was not present; Right here in Highcliff. The moon would be its fullest tomorrow night; That was the _when. _Her next task was to brief the other three participants about the ritual.

* * *

Lillith was having a good time playing with Moonbow, who had taken an immediate liking to the half-elf mother-to-be. The familiar circled behind Lil's back, following her scratching fingernails on the bedspread, around and around. Neither one of them seemed to tire of this game.

"Careful there, _sunshine, _if it catches your hand, you'll need stitches." warned her husband from the bedroom's doorway. He'd been watching for some time.

"Worry wart," she accused, stopping her hand and allowing the fearsome _predator_ to pounce on her defenseless hand. "She's such a sweetheart, aren't you? You wouldn't bite me, would you?" she asked in a teasing tone, rolling her friend over and scratching its belly, causing the familiar to show anyone interested a mouth full of needle-sharp teeth. Lil looked up at her husband and asked, "Her name is Moonbow. Do you know what kind of critter she is?" She arched an eyebrow.

"Sure, that's easy," he began a recitation. "She's a _stoat, _an _eastern weasel; _more commonly, a chicken thief and champion rat-catcher." He thought for a minute, then added, "I think mages also use them in casting spells... something like that. Her eyes look kinda funny, though."

"You're close, You know what this is?" she held the fam' up so he could see the mark on her belly. After he nodded yes, she added, "Moonbow is a special type of familiar that's called a _spirit vessel._ A warrior spirit lives within, waiting to begin its next life. Lady Tiernah says she knew this spirit in its previous life, but she would not say anything more about it."

Rolan's eyes lit up with recollection. "Those dreams that have upset you so much, where the tattooed one said 'the spirit is for my child, not yours...' He wants that spirit for his own purposes. Why not just give the _vessel_ to him? You'd be safe then," he asked with some concern.

"My dear husband, you don't understand. He would harm me and our child just because of our potential to interfere with his plans," she explained, as if to a dull child.

"So, how sure are you that what he wants is so bad," Rolan challenged, starting to heat up. "He's threatened you in a dream, so you think he's on the side of evil?"

"What he wants is not _Sehanine's_ will, and I don't think he cares who gets hurt in this, so I'd say yes he's evil. The Knight-Captain also told me that he's a powerful warlock and is an ally in the war with _The King of Shadows,_ so a confrontation with him is out of the question," Lil said, relating part of Tie's briefing. _"_She doesn't want him to find us or Moonbow... at least until after the ritual is done tomorrow night. The four of us; you, me, Atara'rim, and the Knight-Captain will be communing at moonrise tonight."

"Well, if you think it's the right thing to do," her husband was showing some doubt. "As long as you're committed, _Melamin,_ I'm in 'til the end."

She displayed her most radiant smile. "Yes, _Astalder,_ it is and I am."

Grey Company Elven Translations;

_Isilme'len_- Moonlight-Star

_Vedui-_ Greetings

_Cormamin lindua ele lle_- My heart sings to see thee.

_Nae saian luume'-_ It has been too long.

_Seler'rim-_ respected sister

_Ithilamin-_ My Moon

_templa tel'Quessir-_ elven high-magic

_Atara'rim-_respected mother

_Melamin-_ My Love

_Astalder-_ Valiant One

A/N Many thanks to _BronxWench_ for input on moon elf mysticism.

The elven word _kistrel,_ meaning _friend,_ was coined by NWN2's game developers.

My thanks to _Wyl_ for taking the time to help edit this chapter.


	12. Upstairs

Although he'd been up before the sun, Donel dragged his feet on the way to the stable, he spent the first few hours of this wonderful morning walking old familiar streets. He was an orphan, but he considered the village of Highcliff his home. The orphanage, located just east of the waterfront, was his home as far back as he could remember.

He stood with his cap in hand, looking down into the burned out cellar-hole of the house where he grew up. This more than anything else reminded him that, sadly, he could never return home; Everyone was gone. He certainly hoped no-one was killed when the orphanage caught fire. _Well, Aelicia is waiting in Neverwinter for me,_ his heart lifted at the thought of his sweetheart's devotion. They could build a new home together in _The City of Skilled Hands._

He was about to leave, when an old fellow pushing a hand cart loaded with coils of new-looking rope, stopped to pass the time with him. After introducing himself as Errol Mozah, he told Donel to just call him Mozah, everyone else did, he related that this building had been vacant when it burned; The orphanage that was here moved to Port Llast about two summers ago.

Mozah's information rolled a tremendous stone from the stable boy's heart. Donel was about to introduce himself when the old timer interrupted him, "Wait a minute," he said, scratching a chin with a tenday's worth of ragged beard. "I recognize you now. You're one of the waifs who grew up here at the orphanage... under the watchful eye of... oh, what was her name?"

Donel couldn't help but smile at the memory. "The _ogress_, Mistress Kimber," the stable boy supplied. "Master Donel, you must remember to wipe your feet upon entering," he said in a mocking voice. The memory made his heart ache.

"I remember now," the old man mused. "You kids called her that, and after awhile, the name stuck. We were all calling her that, which was unfair, because Marlah Kimber really cared about those she called the _forgotten ones. _There was even a drow-devil-girl there, but Marlah cared for that one as well."

_He means Lillith,_ Donel though. _But she was just a babe when I left for Neverwinter. _"That's funny," Donel replied, a thoughtful look on his face. "I don't recall any dark-elf sisters at the orphanage." Now he was sure the old man was mistaken.

"Oh, you wouldn't have," Mozah said, with a sly grin. "Marlah wasn't stupid. She'd have kept that hell-spawn down in the cellar, away from fish-wives' prying eyes. No telling what the villagers would have done had they found _that_ child."

_Rolan can thank the Gods that Lillith is fair skinned,_ Donel concluded. _How did the ogress keep Lil's heritage a secret? Apparently no one ever believed the truth._

"You know," the old fellow ruminated, scratching his chin again. "I think that Cap'n Edgewater's bought this lot, maybe to build a warehouse for his trading business. One thing I do know, if the Cap'n is involved, there will be gold coming in from it... Well, it was nice seeing ya again, gotta go, duty calls," He picked up his cart traces and started working his way to the landing.

* * *

On entering the stable, Donel noticed the Knight-Captain and Rolan speaking to the stablemaster. They were standing beside _'Tara, _who was saddled and ready to ride. The moon elf was openly admiring his mount. After the stablemaster showed him _'Tara's _new shoe and clean frog, Tiernah shook his hand and thanked him for his help getting her book and the familiar to Highcliff in time for the full moon tomorrow night. When he mounted, she handed up a small bag of coins and wished him a safe trip.

Rolan stepped up and gripped Donel's hand firmly. "Our door is always open to you, brother, thanks for your help," he said, stepping back and sketching a salute.

Donel thought, _maybe they're not all gone, this is still home,_ as he pulled _'Tara's_ head around. "Take good care of my little sister, she's a very special lady," he said, turned to the Knight-Captain and addressed her; "My Lady, with your leave. May I return to Neverwinter?"

She smiled up at him. "Granted, Gods' speed, soldier of Neverwinter."

* * *

Lady Tiernah and Isilme'len were seated cross-legged, facing each other on two of the four woven floormats arranged in a circle on the patio roof. Their hands were clasped palm-to-palm. Rolan and Lillith faced each other as well, hands also palm-to-palm. The third-quarter moon had yet to rise—The night was filled with the sounds and smells of late autumn in the village of Highcliff. Their communion created a hazy aura that hid them from any prying eyes. The Knight-Captain's blue _telkiira_ was suspended in the empty space between their joined hands. The knowledge of transcendence it contained was now theirs to use.

To the participants, Lillith, Rolan, Isilme'len, and Tiernah, this first communion was to establish their acceptance of _Sehanine's _will, not just in this ritual, but in their lives. Their lives would then be offered up to the judgment of the _Seldarine._ After being found worthy, they would be able to perform the _Petition to Sehanine Moonbow_ on the following night, under the full moon.

A luminous cloud enveloped each of the participants in turn as their hearts were touched by _The Lady of Dreams._ Lillith's joy was in the new life she harbored. Rolan's heart swelled with the pride of young manhood. Isilme'len's love of family, husband, and home was a beacon of light in a land falling under a cloud of shadow. Tiernah's heart's desire was to fulfill _Sehanine's_ will on her friend, Shandra's behalf.

The participants all agreed with Tiernah that the devils at Jerro's Haven who orchestrated Shandra's death by her great-grandfather's hand should not prevail.

The voice of _The Daughter of the Night Skies_ concluded their communion; _My most worthy children—On the next rise of the moon, to continue the life of the noble warrior spirit of Shandra of the Jerro line, your youngest will be tested. Mother will be as a mother, and father as a father. To stand true is to succeed. Only to worthy parents will this noble life be entrusted. Rest easy in your minds, to fail bears no shame. To succeed, there is a continuation of a life lived in the light..._

The four participants; two moon elves and two half-elves, did not see the four leather-armored elven archers move into place around the Edgewater's home—One at each point of the compass; north, east, south, and west. These guardians,_ Sentinels of the Moonbow,_ settled in, awaiting the appointed time.

* * *

Sehanine was smiling—her plans were falling neatly into place. Her children, having completed their first communion, were most worthy._ Correllon _had recently returned to tell her the other members of the_ Seldarine _were unanimous in their approval. She knew that he would grant her _Petition for Templa Tel'Quessir_ with pleasure.

Her _Sentinels_, charged with protecting the participants as well as the spirit vessel, were already in place. The _Heavenly Starsinger_, her most senior priestess, along with her attendants, had the temple prepared for _The Trial of Mother and Father._

With one last loose end to be tied up, she approached her husband. "The preparations are finished, _Melamin_," she smiled up at him. "You have my gratitude for granting this for me. The approval was a surprise. I would think some would object to a direct intervention in _Faerun._"

"Not to worry, _Ithilamin, _the road to diplomacy is only as smooth as its paving stones," he said; Was he teasing again? She could never be sure, He could be very subtle at times. "There was mention of another petition. Another claim on the spirit you are so fond of..." He let the statement hang in the still air. He looked at his wife and raised an eyebrow.

"If it had been from one of the faithful, I would have considered it," she said stiffly. "This warlock, the tattooed one was entangled in lower-planes scheming that resulted in his murder of a blood relative." Her distaste for Ammon Jerro was obvious."I believe that was my decision to make," she stated, looking her husband in the eye.

"Agreed, _Arwenamin_," he replied, a hint of a smile touched his lips. "Now, when can I expect an enraged lower-planes deity to darken my door, asking for his spirit back?"

She didn't rise to his bait; "Never, _Heruamin_," she answered with a bit of superiority. "This warlock was one of the _n'nerdur_."

"Oh, pity," he said with mock remorse, "A good war would have livened things up. The forces of good against evil..."

"_Correllon,"_ she interrupted his dramatics, the horror plain in her voice. When she looked up, his expression of delight made her frown, then she burst out laughing. Yes indeed, her husband was the definition of subtlety.

* * *

Rolan sat on his marriage bed with his wife cradled in his arms. Unwilling to disturb her reverie, he sat quietly in contemplation of the state of his world. His family's import business was turning a handsome profit, his mother's bakery was in the process of outgrowing its property, and he had won the heart of the most beautiful girl in _Faerun,_ who would bear him a child of mystery very soon; He hoped for a boy, but a girl would do him just fine.

The woman in his arms stretched out and leaned back against him, sighing contentedly. She kissed his hands and placed them around her swollen middle, saying, "your baby girl is about to kick a hole in me... can you feel her moving?"

"Hey, yeah," he replied, surprised at what his wife knew. "But, how do you know it's a girl? Are you sure?"

"Oh yes, I'm sure," she answered. "I've been communing with her for a tenday now. I think it's about time for a name, father-to-be," she said, hinting at his elven duty to announce their baby's name.

He'd been thinking about names for quite a while now, and had thought up one he was sure Lil would like. "How about _Melyanna?"_ he asked with some confidence.

She seemed to be considering his choice. Just about the time he was going to give up on her and get angry, she turned to look at him over her shoulder, smiled, and said, "It's beautiful in both word and meaning. Now you'll have to tell her."

"How do I do that," he was on uncertain ground. "Just say it loud enough?" he ventured a guess.

"No, silly," she said, rolling her pale gold eyes at him. "Commune with her... here, I'll show you how," she took his hands and again placed them on her middle. "Now, relax and reach out with your mind like you do with me. I'll be here to help you." She placed her hands over his...

Rolan's step was much lighter when he returned to work on the waterfront that afternoon.

* * *

The creature that Neeshka had named Moonbow didn't understand what being lost was, but she couldn't find any of her _people._ She'd followed Rolan out the back door and through the patio, without him even seeing her behind him. With his mind on his baby girl, he quickly outdistanced the familiar.

Giving up her chase of Rolan, she turned back home, only to find the door closed. After nosing around the door, she followed a scent trail through the patio and up a flight of stairs.

Standing on the top step leading to Isilme'len's upstairs hideaway, the familiar picked up the scent of their recent presence here, especially the playful woman who would soon give birth to a young one. Seeing no one, she called out with a lost-sounding chirp, sure that someone would come looking.

An answering chirp that sounded just like the playful one's reply seemed to come from down below, caused the familiar to descend the stairs to the patio in her long-bodied, bouncing weasel's gait.

The elven archer standing alone in the patio surprised Moonbow. His oil-darkened leather armor was adorned with finely etched silver inlays. A dark lambswool hood covered his head. Intense pale blue eyes were lit by a friendly, disarming gleam. The _Elven Court Bow_ slung over his shoulder was a work of ancient elven art.

"Hello, little one," he said, his greeting was reserved, but still friendly. "Not lost, are you?" When he reached down to pick up the familiar, she scooted up his arm and settled down on his broad shoulder.

Just as he reached for the door handle, it turned and the door opened, revealing a very pregnant, half-sun-elf woman. He recognized _The Chosen One _immediately. "Your pardon, _Arwen en Amin,"_ he said solemnly, sweeping into a perfect bow that almost unseated the chattering familiar on his shoulder.

Lillith recovered with her usual good grace, revealing her most radiant smile. "_Vedui, sentinel,_ let me relieve you of that noisy burden," she said, gathering up her little friend, who quieted down after running up to her shoulder. She answered her mother-in-law's question about who was at the door, and turned back to find Moonbow's benefactor gone. She closed the door quietly after looking around to make sure he had really left.

* * *

The four were gathered together; To the two half-elves and two moon elves, reality was a blur. Each member, at this moment, a separate entity seated comfortably on a woven floor-mat.

Lillith on the west, faced her husband, Rolan, on the east, while Rolan's mother, Isilme'len, on the south, faced Lady Tiernah, on the north. Moonbow was curled up, asleep, in the center of their circle.

When everyone was ready, Lady Tiernah initiated _The Ritual of Petition to Sehanine Moonbow _by holding the blue _telkiira _in both hands out before her. When the gem flared with a soft blue light, she passed it to Lillith, on her right, who held it for a moment before passing it to Isilme'len, who was on her right. Isilme'len held the glowing gem for a moment, then passed it to Rolan, who was on her right. Rolan passed the gem back to Lady Tiernah to complete the circle and returned his hands to his knees, palms up, like the others.

Tie's right hand was extended with the gem in her palm. It raised up and centered itself within their circle at eye level. A cool blue fire descended from the _loregem's_ heart, fueled by the silver light of the full moon overhead. Not bothered in the least by the blue beam engulfing her, the familiar slept on.

Each participant's eyes was focused on the glowing blue crystal. An enchanting vista of the Highcliff countryside appeared in their minds, projected by the spirit within the vessel sleeping peacefully on her floor mat and focused by the power within the gem.

The life of Shandra Jerro, presented in isolated scenes, flowed through their consciousness; First, as a babe, then, as a child, and finally, as an adult. It was a simple life, mostly unremarkable until the finale, marked by her suffering at the misguided hands of her now-repentant great-grandfather when she refused to let her friends die. Her sacrifice was the reason for the _spirit vessel's_ existence.

In response to an unspoken command, Lillith slowly raised her arms and extended her hands. Her husband did the same, turning his hands over, palms down. Their fingers folded naturally together, forming a physical union. With this joining of hands and minds, _The Trial of Mother and Father _could begin. Their presence faded away, until there were only two moon elves seated in the circle of the _loregem's _glow; Lady Tiernah, on the north, and Isilme'len, on the south. Moonbow slept on, in dreamless, undisturbed slumber.

* * *

As if in a dream, Rolan, for the second time in his life, stood on the bluff overlooking the deep lagoon in Highcliff's harbor, his wife of three years was cradled in his arms.

A memory of that first moment played through his mind;

_He looked down at his sweetheart languishing in his arms. "Amin mela lle," he said, his second thoughts about this were growing stronger._

_"Asca Astalder," Lil whispered, kissing him on the lips._

_"Manka lle merna," he replied, looking across the clearing. Setting his face in a grim mask of concentration, he ran through the opening in the fence, hearing Lillith's scream as the rock disappeared from beneath his boots. The weightless feeling made him giddy._

_Still holding his love in his arms, his last thought before they hit the water was, Oh Lil, what have we done?_

He looked down at his wife languishing in his arms. " _Amin mela lle," _he repeated, these years later, his lady's love and time had erased all doubt.

"So the trial begins," Lil murmured sleepily. "This time, we needn't rush," she sighed, kissing him on the lips, like she'd done years before, when he'd carried her off this very cliff as a childish prank. "_Astalder,_ my love is eternal." she assured her child's sire.

"Aye, _Arwenamin, Anaramin, _as is mine," he said fervently, stepping off into the unknown.

Grey Co. Elven Translations;

_telkiira-_loregem

_Templa Tel'Quessir-_elven high-magic

_Melamin-_my love

_Ithilamin-_my moon

_Arwenamin-_My Lady (familiar)

_Heruamin-_My Lord (familiar)

_n'nerdur-_faithless

_Melyanna-_Dear Gift

_Arwen en Amin-_My Lady (non-familiar)

_Vedui-_Greetings

_Asca Astalder-_Hurry, Valiant one

_Manka lle merna-_if you wish

_Amin mela lle-_I love you

_Astalder-_Valiant one (Rolan's _lore _name)

_Anaramin-_My Sun (Lillith's _lore_ name)

A/N My thanks to that humble maven of all things elven, _BronxWench_, for some neat ideas about moon elf mysticism.

My gratitude to _Wyl _for his assistance in shuffling and re-dealing scenes.


	13. The Duskwood

The room in Crossroad Keep's basement was deserted. The only evidence of the foul ritual performed here by Garius and his Luskan necromancers was an indelible rune circle painted on the uneven stone block floor. Although Lord Nasher's cloaktower mages had cleansed the room with powerful spells, traces of shadow still remained. These traces had been harnessed for use by a warlock of considerable power. Taking advantage of a weakness in the wall separating the planes here, Ammon Jerro had constructed a portal, allowing him easy access to the nine hells and beyond.

A green-leather armored figure, on its hands and knees, appeared within the maelstrom inside the portal. When the disturbance subsided, a woman stood and walked outside the circle's nauseating influence.

Elanee was in a quandary. Saving Qara's life hadn't been a question of _yes _or _no_ for the druid, but it caused a problem for her entire group of adventurers. In the war with the _King of Shadows_, Ammon Jerro was indispensable; He had performed a part of the _Ritual of Purification._ Without the warlock's aid, the war was as good as lost.

Casting a sleep spell, along with reciting a powerful confuse incantation on the warlock, seemed like a good idea until the druid, with Grobnar tagging along, had found Qara near death in Ammon Jerro's room. Besides the Knight-Captain's task of keeping an eye on Ammon, Elanee now had to keep Qara from getting even, maybe even killing him.

_Where is Grobnar..._ Elanee's thought was interrupted by the sound of the portal cycling up. The sorceress would be here soon. With no more time left to think, she started speaking an incantation, turning to face the runes.

The blank look on Qara's face told Elanee all she needed to know; Her spell had worked. "Umm.. Ammon Jerro... where are we?" the sorceress stammered, looking around the room.

Elanee's tone was soothing, filled with sympathy. "It's all right. We're safe now. This is the Crossroad Keep basement," she said as they walked out of the circle's influence. "That's a poorly constructed portal. I've never been so sickened. Let's get you to your room so you can rest." Placing an arm around her charge, they climbed the stairs to the main hall.

* * *

The troll was hunting, his hunger growing as time passed. The faint scent of blood on the breeze meant food was near. The hunter he'd recently killed and devoured had only whetted his growing appetite. The scent trail led to the base of a duskwood tree at the edge of a grove of the trees growing on the riverbank. Looking up, he spotted his next meal, a small elven boy sitting in the lower branches gazing down at him, making fearful keening sounds that only served to excite the troll's predatory instinct.

Shaking the tree did no good; The tasty treat remained stubbornly on that branch, just out of reach, throwing bits of bark and dead branches into the troll's upturned face, making him sneeze. The boy sat quietly, only moving when the beast threatened him.

Just about the time the green horror got wise and picked up a large stone to unseat his prey, he was startled by a large rock rebounding from the back of his head. The troll turned around to face whoever had been foolish enough to provoke him.

Rolan stood at the end of the sloping cart path that led to a switchback cut into the side of the hill, a large stone in each hand. The search for his wife, Lillith, brought him to this place; It looked very much like the path through the Duskwood that led past a rebuilt Ember and on to Port Llast. In his youth, Rolan had hunted deer here with friends from time to time. Seeing the green horror's effort to assault the child, he couldn't help but bean the green devil with a rock and lead it away; Maybe the boy could escape then.

The troll, seeing an easier, larger meal let out an enraged roar and took off in pursuit. Rolan ran back up the path to the first Z-shaped turn, paused to make sure he was being followed, and advanced half way up the middle leg of the switch-back. When the monster was well up the trail, Rolan picked up a large rock and descended just far enough to look down.

Before he could loose off his missile, Rolan watched with fascination as the troll chasing him began to shimmer, its skin sloughing off like melting candle wax; The green skin bubbled, then turned black, bursting into flame as the fat beneath it burned. Roaring its agony at the sky, the troll seemed to take a long time to die.

Not knowing what to expect, Rolan scanned to his left, hoping the one who wielded such destructive power, even here where the trees dampened all magic, was at least tolerant, if not friendly. He gave a start at what he saw; The elf child, a boy of no more than twenty summers, stood at the base of a tall duskwood tree, holding a wound on his neck from which blood continued to leak. He was wearing nothing but a pair of leather and linen shorts—His feet were bare.

One look at this little one's exhausted, frightened face told Rolan he had nothing to fear. When the boy crumpled to the ground and lay still, he gathered up the fallen sorcerer and carried him to an abandoned campsite a short distance away.

_Hang in there Lil, _he thought wearily. _This won't take long._ He promised his lady, as he cast about for something, anything to tend the child with.

* * *

Grobnar paused with his hand on the door latch to Ammon Jerro's room. "Do you think _Kistrel_ is a phase spider?" his whispered question, although intriguing, didn't fit into their current situation. Ever since Elanee had returned from putting Qara to sleep in her bedroom here at the Phoenix Tail Inn, and found the gnome riding the spider around the keep's basement, all he could talk about was his new mount.

Right now, they needed to deal with a powerful and possibly dangerous warlock. Elanee fretted that Ammon was not still under her sleep spell's effect. The incantation that scrambled his thoughts should last for several days though; That eased her mind considerably.

Ammon was just like they'd left him; Head down on the table in his room—Fast asleep. "Help me move him over to the bed Grobnar," she didn't want the gnome to wander into the inter-planar trap set by the warlock to catch anyone who might have helped Qara to escape. After they laid the sleeping warlock on his bed, Elanee carefully applied another spell of sleeping; It wouldn't do to put him under so deeply that he would never wake up.

"I certainly hope the Knight-Captain appreciates what we're doing here." Grobnar gave voice to a sentiment that both he and Elanee felt. Lady Tiernah didn't exactly tell them to suppress the warlock's threat, they were merely tasked to watch him, but the druid felt that it was the safest thing to do. Now that both Ammon and Qara were sound asleep, it would be a simple chore to just watch over them.

* * *

Her world was in darkness. The steady drip of water echoing off the cold stone walls gave her no idea where she was or how large the room. She was not alone; Five others, she sensed, were scattered about the chamber. They were standing still, silently watching her. Her eyes, inherited from a drow grand-parent, glowed a dull ruby red as they adjusted to the near total darkness.

Lillith, in spite of the smell of fear and decay all around her, was delighted. She was in no danger. _They're little ones... children,_ she thought, curiosity taking her mind from the worry of a missing husband.

Four tiny figures, their eyes also aglow, were now clustered around a taller fifth; A drow female of average height, dressed, not as a warrior, but as a traveler. On closer examination, Lil could see that the four little ones were paired; They were twins. Two girls were identical full-blooded drow, while a boy and a girl were fraternal half-drow siblings.

"A rightful place awaits you in the_ Realm Above_, in the _Land of the Great Light._" the taller one murmured. "Come in peace and live beneath the sun again, where the trees and the flowers grow." Her wistful recitation of _Eilistraee's_ _message_ in the common tongue caused the little ones to draw closer together.

Lillith's heart went out to these lost ones. "_Vendui, lotha dalninil (Greetings, little sister)," _ she began, getting to her feet and bowing. "_Usstan kyorl telanth rivven _(_I see you_ _speak common_)_, waelin jallil _(_young lady_)_, xal udos telanth _(_may we speak_)_? Dos Lu'Usstan _(_You and I_)_?_" The formality of her drow speech of welcome was a sign of respect among the elves of the Underdark.

"_Vedui, seler'rim,"_ the taller child returned in the high elven language, sketching a bow in spite of the press of the others around her. "I am now called Cluvista, formerly of the house _hue D'nai." _She smiled, looking down at her charges. " This is Heile and Cale." She placed her hands on the half-drow twin's heads. "And these two," she said with pride. "Are Khama and Kharmah." At the mention of their name, each bowed solemnly.

Lil couldn't help but be impressed by this young drow maiden who spoke Drow, Common, and Elvish. At the orphanage in Highcliff, Lil had studied the elven languages, never knowing that someday she'd be using them. "If I may ask, _lotha dalninil,_ where are we? Isn't it unusual for _ilythiiri waelin ussen(drow little ones)_to be alone so near the surface?"

"Dear sister," the drow maiden's smile was guarded. "We are followers of _Eilistraee, _who eschew the way of the drow; We embrace the teachings of our _Lady Silverhair, _and with her blessing will once again be called _Ssri-tel'Quessir. _Please begin our friendship by calling me Clu," she concluded, her smile was one of hope.

Lil took Clu's hands in her own and said, "Then we are truly well met, sister Cluvista, formerly of the house _hue. _I am Lillith Edgewater _nee_ _Liantelle _of Highcliff. You _must_ call me Lil, though." Lil's trademark smile lit her whole face.

_Liantelle, _Clu was thoughtful. _Lillith, is dark one and liantelle, is little spider._ Our sister uses the human's naming convention as well. Evidently relatives of this pale skinned, part-drow sister had been helped to the surface by the moon elves after the crown wars, many generations ago. "Then you are aware of the obstacles we face," she said, shooing the children, who dispersed around the room. "The biggest that we face is now outside of this cave," she confided with lowered voice. "We are trapped in a troll's food pen."

* * *

Rolan's search of the camp was more successful than he'd dared to hope for. Its last occupant seemed to have been a moderately successful hunter. A longbow, with a quiver filled with razor-tipped arrows, and skinning knife were carefully wrapped and lay beside a pile of cured hides. A well oiled pack contained treasure; A healing kit with a bottle of salve and a sewing kit with needle and thread. He also found a small hand-axe and a cooking pan rolled up in a bed-roll in the bottom of the backpack. He wondered at the absence of any food, though.

Treating the boy was a snap; While he was still unconscious, Rolan managed to wash his wound and close it with three fine stitches using the sewing kit. Applying salve and binding the cut finished the job neatly-There wouldn't be much of a scar.

They sat in a companionable silence with their backs against a large rock. The warm sun felt good on bare faces and arms. Rolan had found a reasonably clean linen tunic for the child, who seemed to possess the ability to burn a fully grown forest troll. He wasn't sure, the moon elf boy hadn't said a word since waking from an exhausted doze.

Where was Lil? Was she alright? Although he felt he was wasting time, Rolan stayed awhile longer with the lost boy. Maybe the hunter would return and claim the child. "I wonder where the hunter went?" he mused aloud, his gaze wandered up the trail toward Ember.

"Trolls ate him," the boy looked up at Rolan, then away, as if his answer would anger his benefactor. "Trolls ate our guide too. Now we won't find the orphanage in Last Port. Damn trolls."

"Don't you mean Port Llast?" Rolan's face was thoughtful. "You said _we_... are there others?" _Lil's missing, I don't need to get tangled up with this. _His worry about her was growing as time passed.

"There was seven of us," the boy looked up the trail, as if expecting visitors. "Mistress _D'nai,_ with four twins, me, and the ranger hired to take us... to Port Llast. The trolls killed the ranger and threw us all into a smelly cave. They blocked it with broken trees, but I got out and tried to get the hunter to help, but... a troll killed him too." The child buried his face in his hands and wept.

Rolan waited, putting his arm around his new-found friend until he settled down, then asked, "Was it you who burned that troll up the hill there?" Despite the damping effect the Duskwood had on magic, whoever killed that troll exercised great power.

"Y-Yes I did," he looked guilty. "Mistress says it's wrong... I could hurt someone that I love..."

"She's right," Rolan agreed. "But defending yourself is never wrong, and using your power to defend loved ones should be your purpose." An idea dawned on him. "Do you think you could burn another troll if you had to?" His grey eyes held the boy's blue ones.

"Yeah, if I had to," the boy's firm voice was beyond his years.

"Good deal, then. Let's get going," Roland said, standing and shouldering the longbow and pack. "What do I call you?" he asked. "My name is Rolan Edgewater, from Highcliff." He extended a hand.

They shook hands—The boy had a surprisingly strong grip for one so young. "My name is _Galcuiva._ I don't like it much. It means..." the boy said shyly.

"I know what it means. I'm half moon-elf myself," Rolan interrupted. "And later on, the ladies will love it, trust me." He smiled as they set off up the trail to the troll cave.

The boy led Rolan up a narrow trail to a rock ledge overlooking another abandoned camp just off the cart track. The remains of a campfire and a broken wagon were the only signs of recent use. The boy, who insisted that Rolan call him Gale, pointed out the forest troll sow sleeping on a grass-mat bed between a large boulder and the side of the mountain.

"That's one of the biggest trolls I've ever seen," Rolan said, setting his bow, quiver, and shoulder bag down. "Is he the only one left after... you got the other one?"

Gale held a finger to his lips and whispered, "It's a girl and she's got a little one... that's probably why she's so nasty tempered, even for a damned troll." The look of fear on his face was almost comical.

"So, where are the others, your family?" after a quick scan, Rolan didn't know where the cave was. Looking at the crags over the troll's bed revealed no rocks or trees that could be dropped onto the green beast. But then, he hesitated at the thought of killing her—That went against his nature. This creature, troll or not, had a young one. There might be another way to make her leave.

"The cave is just beyond that rock there." the boy pointed. "You can see one of the logs sticking out. There's another way in just over there," he said, pointing to a narrow crevasse behind them on the path. "But you wouldn't get through it. You're too big."

The boy studied him for a moment, his eyes intently on his face. "Is there a way to set fire to the troll's bed, make enough noise to frighten her away?" Rolan asked, "Maybe just enough pain to keep her away for awhile?"

Gale's face brightened. "Maybe just a little bit of lightning," he enthused, mimicking his new-found friend. "When it hits that bed... noise and fire. Damned troll is stupid; She won't know where to run, but away and gone."

"We're all set, then," Rolan said, picking up a handful of stones to pelt the little one with. He didn't want to torment it, just make its mother take it out of danger. He looked at the boy sternly and said, "If this backfires and she attacks us, can you cast a fire spell on her? It may mean our lives. You can't hesitate."

"I won't," he replied in the same ageless voice as before. "Depend on me." His face also said he meant it.

The boy closed his eyes, his face was set in intense concentration. His hands, palms pressed together, were pointed at the troll's grass bed. When he opened his eyes a blue bolt of raw energy descended from the sky and touched down next to the slumbering troll.

The troll was on her feet at the crash of the lightning; Her little one squealing in terror. The flames from the bed licking up the sow's leg caused her to grab up the little one and depart for a safer refuge, not looking back even once. The squalling of her little one eventually faded to silence when they were out of hearing.

"You sure put the fear of the gods in those two," Rolan said, laughing as he slapped the grinning elf boy on the back.

The boy's smiling face became serious as a thought occurred to him. "Maybe if she's shy from now on, she'll live longer. I hope she doesn't come back. It'd be a shame to have to kill her," he said with a shake of his head.

The lad's reluctance to kill gave Rolan's heart a lift. He hoped Gale would never get so hardened that taking a life would be commonplace."That's a good point-Troll females tend to be very shy," he said, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder. "I don't think she'll be back." He gathered up his bow and shoulder bag. "You know, I think maybe you've done some good here. Let's go find your... family and get them to Port Llast."

The mouth of the cave was filled with broken tree branches and loose rock. It looked like a hopeless task to Rolan. "They're in here, right?" he asked, kicking at some of the loose gravel on the path. His wife seemed to be getting farther away from him. He sighed in resignation.

To answer his question, the boy stepped up and started pulling out branches and throwing rocks off of the pile. His face was set in determination—He didn't look up to see if he was being helped.

Chastened by the boy's energetic example, Rolan pitched in, grappling some of the larger boulders out of the way.

"Mistress, I hear someone coming," the little one named Cale said, his voice high with excitement. He ran to the blocked entrance to their cave before his drow matron, barely more than a girl herself, could restrain him.

After sending the others to their hiding places around their stone prison, Clu motioned for Lil to follow her after the impulsive child. She was worried that he'd heard the troll returning.

A shaft of pale sunlight speared into the tunnel near the roof, onto the floor, transfixing the half-drow child—His hands were clasped over his eyes, he was obviously in pain. Clu swept him up in her arms and retreated back through the tunnel to the cavern.

Lillith retreated a few steps, a stout tree branch clutched in both hands. Her blood was up—She wasn't just_ showing_ drow; She'd _become_ a drow. The light dimmed and a few stones rattled down to the floor inside as a pair of blue eyes appeared at the gap near the ceiling. Giving a loud cry of thanks to _Sehanine_, Lil threw down her club and climbed the tumbledown all the way to the ceiling. Her ears heard a most welcome sound—Gale was saying, "The troll's gone, mistress. I've got someone to help us. We're digging you out."

Chosen of Eilistraee Drow Translations;

_Vendui, lotha dalninil_-Greetings, little sister

_Ussten kyorl telanth rivven, waelin jallil, xal udos telanth? Dos Lu'Usstan?_

I see you speak common, young lady, may we speak? You and I?

_Ilythiiri waelin ussen_-drow young ones

Grey Company Elven Translations;

_Galcuiva-_To celebrate awakening

_Vedui, Seler'rim_-Greetings, Respected Sister

_Ssri-tel'Quessir_-dark elves (before the descent)

_liantelle_-little spider

A/N Profuse thank-you's to _Shirl'le E. Illios, high priestess of Eilistraee_, for the _Drow translator_ and the _Message of Eilistraee, _from her web-pages; _The Chosen of Eilistraee. _C.


	14. Port Llast

"...We're digging you out," Gale finished and turned as Rolan climbed up beside him. "That's not one of our... family...It looks like a sun elf."

"Let me see," the father-to-be interrupted, pushing the boy aside in his rush to see who was in the blocked cave. His heart leaped at the sight of his lady's pale gold eyes. He all but ignored the boy he'd been rude to, who looked at him with sullen eyes and then punched him a good one in the arm.

Rolan rubbed his arm and said, "Hey, sorry about that. You alright?" Before the boy could answer, he looked into the narrow opening and said, "Well, hello there, sunshine. How in the devil did you get in dere?" He looked at his wife with a well-what-do-you-know smile.

"Never you mind, Rolan Edgewater," Lil's voice drifted up from the hole—She was fussing, her eyes ablaze. Gale drew back a bit, his face a mask of confusion. "You hear me? Hurry it up now, get us out of here." Her eyes were now on his, her smile widened. She was enjoying herself.

Rolan's reply made the elf boy's eyes get even larger. "Hmm, I don't know," looking at Gale while a question formed in his mind. "What's in it for us? It's going to be a lot of hard work to dig you out. That hole will have to be twice as large now." He said, waiting for the inevitable explosion of feminine outrage.

None came. She looked back and forth between the two conspirators for a moment and said, "I will _give _you your _lives_, that is more than you scum deserve," with all the venom she could muster. Her evil smile would make a _Valsharess _proud.

_Stage drama,_ he though, then said to his moon elf friend, "Don't mind her, she's just kidding." He knew his wife well enough to know when to quit. It was time to get back to work. "All right, I guess the _others _will want to get out. Let's get a move on my friend," he said, starting to throw the larger stones to the left and right.

* * *

Rolan and Gale had the opening large enough to allow the little ones to escape in short order. With just a little more work, Lil was able to exit standing up. Their affectionate embrace confused Gale even more; He didn't know any elves who acted like these two. Maybe it was their human half showing.

They were all gathered outside their former prison. Lillith was the only one enjoying the bright sunlight. The dark elf little ones, including Clu, were wearing hooded robes to shield their sensitive eyes from the daylight. After a few weeks of careful exposure to more and more light, they would be fine.

After telling of their encounters with the trolls, Rolan shouldered his weapons, a bale of cured hides, and led them up the trail toward Ember. Gale followed with a load of his own, a shoulder bag of items that belonged to his _brother_ and _sisters._ They all set off with renewed hope. The last leg of their long journey would take less than a day to complete.

* * *

The weary travelers rounded the last bend in the road to Port Llast just as the setting sun touched the far horizon. Most of the market stalls here were deserted, the sellers had gone home. A kindly old man closing up for the day, gave them directions to the orphanage after supplying meat pies to feed the hungry little ones. He graciously refused their offer of gold, but accepted their profuse thanks. Fortified in both body and spirit by his generosity, the ragged little group made their way to the waif's home—Their new home.

Lillith, with Kharmah riding on her shoulders-She was too tired to walk-was heartened when their destination drew into sight. It was a large, rambling, clapboard seacoast-built house on a fieldstone foundation, painted an off-color eggshell white with black shutters. It looked like it was painstakingly maintained.

When they'd all gathered in the entrance hall, a stern voice from the room on the right arrested their attention. "May I help you with something?" the voice of a woman in the room asked.

That voice was familiar, stirring memories for Lillith. _Can it be?_ She wondered. When she stepped through the door, it was like she'd stepped back in time. Seeing her Matron again, after all this time, caused her to cry out, turning every head in the hall.

"Lillith, as I live and breathe. The Gods, it's good to see you girl." The wizened gold dwarf stepped into her former charge's embrace.

Out in the hall, Rolan couldn't believe his ears. _The ogress? After all this time? She must be as old as Oghma by now._

When he entered the room, Lil and the matron looked up. "Well now, Master Edgewater, it is good to see you haven't managed to kill yourself... yet. Are you responsible for this?" She eyed him suspiciously and pointed at his wife's oversized belly.

"Aye, Mistress, I am," Rolan answered proudly, squaring his ample shoulders.

"And do you have a name for my grandchild?" she asked, staking her claim as his mother-in-law. She was expecting him to hem and haw and mumble something about _if it's a_ _boy or a girl..._

He looked at Lil, who smiled benignly at his uneasiness. "Yes, Mistress, her name will be Melyanna Edgewater," he answered quickly, feeling like he was back in grade school.

"_Her _name?" she asked skeptically. A look at Lil's knowing smile made her nod and say, "It appears you've done well, lad, carry on then." She dismissed him by turning abruptly and walking to her door. She went out into the hall, clapping her hands and saying, "What do we have here?"

* * *

The next morning Lil almost tripped over her husband and the moon elf boy sitting on the front steps. They appeared to be in a serious discussion, and it abruptly ended when they noticed her. "Time to eat, guys," she said and went back inside. Lil didn't waste time when there were chores waiting to be done.

"So, you're not staying here?" Rolan asked, he didn't understand how a child as young as Gale would be wandering alone in the wilds north of Neverwinter.

"No, I'm going with you," he repeated his earlier statement. "I was looking for you and your wife when I ran into Mistress D'nai and the twins."

"Isn't this where we should be?" he asked, mystified. Neither he nor Lil knew where they were going. "Why were you looking for us?"

"I have to take you somewhere," he replied. "I can't tell you why..." he looked up at Rolan, a beseeching look on his face,"Trust me."

"I can do that," he said, standing up. "Let's eat, then we'll see about where we need to go."

* * *

"Here, smell this," his wife stuck another bottle filled with some sweet-smelling extract under his nose. "What do you think?"

"Makes me sneeze, then I wanna puke," Rolan snapped. This was the third essence his wife had tried. By now they all smelled the same to him. _Why doesn't she just pick one?_ he thought, really not in the mood to be marketing.

They had left the orphanage just a short while ago, fortified with a good meal and eager to be on their way. The Matron profusely thanked them for their help and the generous donation of gold. The bale of hides Rolan carried would fetch a fair price at the armorer's shop next door, adding to the waif's home's account considerably.

They'd passed the town well when Lil's eyes lit up, "Rolan, is that Nya?" she asked, pointing to a stall nestled in a corner between two residences. It turned out to be the herbalist from Highcliff who'd moved on to find better business in a larger town. After getting re-acquainted, his wife found a bottle of balsam for her hair and was now looking for what she called _a scent_.

"You're not listening to me," Lil's protest was almost a whine. "Which one was the best?" Her efforts to include her husband in her shopping just irritated him.

"I've got some more over here," Nya said, pointing to a shelf along the back wall of her open air shop. "There's even Gardenia here, if you want it." She looked thoughtful. "It sells for more, but I'll discount it today for old time's sake." She winked at Rolan when she said this.

After they'd made their purchase, Nya thanked them, wished them a safe journey, and invited them to come back and visit when they had more time. It seemed to Rolan that she missed the small village that she once called home.

* * *

At the next intersection, they took the road leading east, out of town. Gale did not seem to have any problem keeping up, he kept pace walking easily beside Rolan and Lil.

They'd come to an intersection marked by a four bladed sign. To their left lay the city of Luskan. To the right, the _City of Skilled Hands_—Neverwinter. Straight ahead was a narrower cart-track marked as _The Neverwinter Wood. _The moon elf boy took the latter to the 'wood, not even slowing his pace.

After following this track for about an hour, the boy found an even narrower path to the right that ascended a gentle slope. At the end of this trail, he pulled aside the branches of a willow tree to reveal the mouth of a cave.

"We can rest here for awhile," the boy said with relief, sitting on a rock in the shade. "The portal is just a short way inside, we're almost there."

* * *

Gale was standing at the end of the passage looking down at a golden circular rune painted on the floor of the cave. He pointed to a word etched in fine silver script on the cave wall; _Temple._

"Are you sure this is the way," Rolan was skeptical. He wasn't entirely sure this young moon elf knew where they should go.

"Aye," the boy said with a nod toward Lil. "The _Chosen _One is expected at the temple. They are awaiting her arrival."

"I'll just wait here then," Rolan's temper was fraying. "Maybe I could find something useful to do."

"I think we _all _should enter this portal," their elven guide intoned, looking at Rolan with a touch of impatience. "I'm sure this leads to _your_ next trial." Obviously he knew more about this strange pair of half-elves than he was willing to reveal.

Lil rolled her honey colored eyes at them both and stepped onto the rune circle, promptly disappearing without a sound.

After Gale followed her to their unknown destination, Rolan sighed, "Well, here goes nothing." And that's exactly what it was—Nothing happened. He turned a complete circle, stomping on the rune to no avail. When he stepped off the marker, a woman's voice advised, _Astalder Edgewater, your trial lies with the forgotten little ones._

_ Forgotten ones?_ his mind drew a blank, then it dawned on him; _The orphanage at Port_ _Llast. It must be... I've gotta go back.

* * *

_

"This way, _Arwen en Amin_," Gale walked the _Chosen One _by the hand up a winding leaf strewn path leading to a broad terrace cut into the rock of the hillside. When she stopped at the marble entryway, a sharp intake of her breath made him look up at her and smile. He understood. Although he had been to this _Temple of the Moon _many times, its grandeur always seemed new, somehow _different_ to him every time he returned.

Lillith paused at the marble steps leading to the portico. Unsure of herself, she hesitated, her attention riveted to the statue placed directly in front of the open door leading to the _Lunarium_ , an open roofed alter to _Sehanine Moonbow._

The statue was a finely detailed image of a female warrior, hewn entirely in white marble, wearing elven chainmail topped with a Bladesinger's tabard. Her bow was slung on her back, her longsword and her dagger were sheathed; She was at peace. Her arms were raised in welcome to the faithful followers entering this temple.

As she traveled the path many elven had taken at their life's end, Lillith's concern for her husband sharpened. "Where's Rolan, shouldn't he be here?" she asked, not wanting to continue without him.

"His trial is unfinished, My Lady," Gale explained. "As soon as I deliver you to our_ Lunar Lady's Heavenly Starsinger_, I will return to Last Port to assist him." He spoke in an ageless voice that somehow didn't fit his small stature. "We will meet you here at his trial's conclusion." He, once again, took her hand and they ascended the few steps to the portico.

* * *

The woman who stepped from behind _Sehanine's_ graven image possessed the unearthly beauty of one of _The Lunar Lady's _own. She was a model of moon elven femininity, with jet black hair held in place by a fine silver diadem. Deep blue eyes had a depth that would challenge any bard to describe. Her silver-white diaphanous gown, gathered at the waist with a silver lace sash, revealed a mature, yet lithe figure. On her feet were simple woven sandals.

Unaware of her own beauty, Lillith sighed. Surely this angelic creature of intimidating presence wasn't waiting for her, despite what her child-guide had said.

"_Lady Starsinger,_ may I present _My Lady Lillith, Our Chosen One?_" the moon elf boy announced. His precise bow was enchanting for one so small. Lil couldn't help, but smile.

"Thank you, sentinel," the priestess' smile reached her voice when she spoke to the little one. "How goes the _Trial of the Father?"_

"It goes well, My Lady. We'll see its conclusion very soon, I think," Gale replied. "With your leave, I'll return to his side. He's doing pretty well on his own, though." His compliment was for Lil's benefit.

"I will see you when you return then, farewell." With that, she turned and took Lillith's hands in her own. "Welcome to our _Temple of the Moon_,_ Lady Chosen One."_ The priestess' kiss on her forehead swept away all doubts. "Come with me, we've been awaiting your arrival," she said, leading the way to a world of wonder.

* * *

_Thank the gods that harpy is gone, _she'd had just about enough of that tight-fisted witch. Her last customer glared at her once more before turning the corner. Nya's uncharitable, unspoken thought would have embarrassed her had she been in a better mood. Damned it all, just when she was getting caught up financially, business dried up and she had to scratch and claw for every cursed copper. The friendly shopkeeper image she worked so hard to keep didn't seem to work very well here in Port Llast. These _sophisticated_ town dwellers took pleasure in taking something for nothing and pushing one out of the way in the process. She sighed, _Septimund, why did you leave me? _She'd never felt so alone.

The herbalist leaned over the counter and looked to the right at the young man walking her way. Taking a bottle from the shelf on her right, she turned it up and touched a finger to its unstoppered top. A touch to each pulse point on her throat, just under the jawline was enough for her purpose. _He won't know what hit him, _Nya thought with glee. She loosened the top button on her bodice, and leaned on the counter just as Rolan walked by.

"Hello there, Rolan," Nya purred, shifting slightly to give him a better look at her wares. "It's good to see you again. Can I... get you something?" Her sleepy eyes held promise.

"Oh, Hiya Nya," He said, using an old familiar greeting that started when she lived in the village of Highcliff. Her feral smile widened at his unabashed stare and distracted grin.

Her pick-up line was interrupted when a clumsy half-orc brute of a sailor pushed past the entranced half-elf, and steadied him with one large gray-green hand. "Excuse me, lad," the brute intoned in a cultured rumble. "Steady on there—Can you point the way to the orphanage, like a good lad?" His glowing amber eyes crawled over the amorous shopkeeper. He looked as if he wouldn't mind sampling her wares as well.

Rolan looked around as if he'd just awakened. Pointing to their right, he said, "Just past the town well, on the left side of the street. You can't miss it." He turned to a disappointed looking Nya. "Good to see you again, my lady, take care of yourself," he said with a wave and set off once again.

"Give my love to your wife," She called to the retreating figure, giving Rolan a hesitant, half hearted wave. She frowned and looked up when a shadow fell over her.

The sailor was leaning over her, his menace was plain. "The Doomguide sends his greetings, _my lady._ He promises to return to one who is _faithful_... someday." he rumbled in a just-you-and-me _basso profundo_. The sun felt good on her face and arms when the giant left her and strode off past the well. It took quite a while for it to chase away the chill.

Neither the shop-keeper nor Rolan observed the giant duck behind the well house and a few moments later, a small elven child emerge after kneeling and murmuring a prayer to _Sehanine Moonbow,_ begging for forgiveness for his intervention.

* * *

The orphanage was silent when Rolan approached. The windows were not shuttered, but there was a deserted, empty feeling that wasn't here just yesterday. Why weren't there any children playing in the fenced yard? When he finally entered, he found out why.

The small rooms to the left and right of the entry hall were closed and locked, as if they'd been under siege. The door ahead, that he knew led to a large open common room, was ajar. Stifled moans and childish sobs reached out to him from that room.

There were two groups of young ones here. None of them were the dark elves he and his wife had brought here for refuge yesterday. The room was more of a mess than the usual lived-in look that active healthy children gave to a playroom. Someone had gone mad here. Broken furniture, clothes and dishes were mixed in with the usual litter.

"Are you all right?" he asked a half-elf girl, just short of her majority, who was trying to console the disturbed little ones around her. Her firm nod and defiant lift of her chin told Rolan, he could depend on her. "Who did this?" her asked, not trying to restrain his anger.

"It's _him_," she said shrilly, pointing to a door in the far corner. "He's drunk... Mistress can't do a thing about him, so he does whatever he pleases."

None of the children seemed to be hurt, they were just badly frightened. After making sure, Rolan strode to the door and yanked it open. The room had two sets of double bunks and looked like a cyclone had touched down inside. Clothes, furniture and empty spirit bottles lay everywhere. In the bottom bunk in the right corner lay a boy that was almost as big as a man. His ragged snoring proved he was no threat.

Rolan made a quick decision. There were no windows in this room, it was once an oversized closet, maybe a pantry. It would make a fairly good improvised cell. When he stepped back out, two bolt braces on the wall beside the door made his mind up. After a quick search, he found a timber leaning against a back wall that would work.

With the bar across the door, the savage was effectively locked in. Rolan turned to the children, who seemed to have settled down. "Let's leave him in there. Don't open this, no matter what he does or says." Several young heads nodded agreement, they seemed pleased.

He approached the girl that he trusted with leading the children. "The dark elves that just came here, where are they?" Rolan was afraid of her answer.

She would not meet his eyes, "They... he herded them into the cellar. Said he was taking their room. He said that's where devil children belonged... in the hells."

He put his arm around her. She was almost hysterical. "Where's the cellar door?" he asked gently.

She led him across the room to a door that looked like it led to a closet. There was a bar across this door, no one could get out unless it was unbarred from this side. She laid her hand on its rough surface and a tear ran down her cheek, causing Rolan to fear the worst.

Grey Co. Elven Translations;

_Arwen en Amin- _My Lady (non-familiar)

A/N Thanks again to _Wyl_ for another insightful editing job. C.


	15. The Waif's Home

The girl helped Rolan unbar the cellar door. "I hope they're alright down there," she said, stepping back as he pulled it open.

With some trepidation, he descended the narrow, creaky steps with care, stopping at the bottom to take a good look around the dark, musty smelling room. Seeing no telltale eye-glow made him even more pensive.

The young ones could still be here though; Dark elves were smart enough to realize that their eyes could give away their presence in the dark, even to those with limited daylight vision. When startled or threatened, a reflex caused them to bow their heads and close their eyes, making them near invisible to all with daylight vision-Their acute hearing and sense of smell would then take over. Rolan fervently hoped this was the case here.

It was deathly quiet, nothing moved, yet he felt a faint presence. Whoever was here listened and waited. "Clu, are you here? It's Rolan," he whispered, daring to hope they were alive and uninjured.

He was about to return to the ground floor to get a lantern when a shadow detached itself from the wall, its eyes were glowing red. Four more pairs of eyes appeared around him, as if by magic. At a sharp hiss from the figure in front of him, all the eyes winked out at once.

"Are we to be banished?" the tension in the girl Clu's voice expressed her anger. "Have you come to take us back to our death in the darkness?"

No, no... this is your home now," Rolan said, trying to reassure her. "That boy upstairs talks from ignorance and hate. He speaks for himself, not for us." He felt that cutting through the knot of her betrayed trust was an impossible task, but he had to try.

"I am not convinced." Clu's reply held a regret that was not common to the drow. "We will wait, _surfacer,_ we have no choice." She stepped back into the shadows, her eyes disappeared from his view.

He could not think of a thing to say that would make sense. He was about to turn and leave, when he felt a tiny hand slip into his. Kneeling down brought him face-to-face with a little one, he wasn't sure which one.

"We don't have to leave, can we stay?" she asked, her hopeful emotion was there, it hadn't been trained out of her... yet."

Her question made Rolan's heart ache. "You can stay, sweetheart, I promise," he said, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Stay here just a little longer. I'll come back and get you when it's safe."

* * *

The cellar door was once again safely barred. The drunken sot was still out cold in his cell. Rolan's next move was to see the matron—Where did she fit into all of this?

When he returned to the common room, Rolan noticed that the children had been organized and cleaning up was in progress. A few of the elder ones were sorting through the litter for anything that could be salvaged. The matron was conspicuous by her absence. The girl he'd talked to before his descent, her name was Elspeth, showed him the way to the office where they'd met the ogress yesterday.

After he knocked on the door and gotten no answer, Rolan looked down to see a large iron key in the lock. It was on the outside of the door, effectively blocking escape from this room. She'd been locked into her own office.

The matron was standing with her back to the door, apparently looking out the window. "'tis a sad day when a _child_ locks me into my own office," she said turning to address her savior. Rolan now realized how serious things were by her injuries; A cut on her forehead hadn't quite stopped oozing blood, and numerous bruises on her face and arms would take a long time to fade away. "Maybe it's time for the ogress to go home," she said sadly, shaming Rolan for using the undeserved moniker.

He gave her his remaining healing kit; She'd waved him away when he tried to treat her. "What in the hells is going on?" he asked, wondering how this could happen in such a large settlement—Port Llast was much larger than his village of Highcliff. "Where's the Town Watch? It's their job to keep the peace."

"We're behind on paying our _taxes_," she replied, her speech clipped by her anger. "So the almighty Haeromos has informed me that we are on our own, and will be until we are paid up. Can you believe that? It's insane... He's insane... and it's making me insane." She buried her face in her hands. "Why do I keep trying?" she asked the room in a small voice.

"Because you'd never think of quitting," his sharp answer brought her head up. "Elspeth is starting to clean up. His majesty, the _prince of savages,_ is locked in where he can't get out, until I get the_ Town Watch_ to come get him. Haeromos needs to be shamed into getting off his lazy ass." Rolan's statement was punctuated by a firmly closed door.

* * *

Rolan's anger was barely under control as he approached the Port Llast garrison. The two heavily armed town watchmen stationed at its front door made him think twice about just barging in and demanding action from the watch.

A notice tacked to the bill-board on his left, erected to screen the _Cracked Anvil's _forge from the street, caught his attention. Under a well detailed line-drawing of a ship under full sail was a flowery invitation to 'young men of stout mind and body' to enlist in the _adventurous_ life of a sailor. Rolan's mom was fond of saying that whoever wrote these posters had no idea how much of an adventure being a sailor really was—She'd forbade him from even discussing it with her when the seagoing bug had bitten him. To keep the peace, his father'd reluctantly agreed with her. At the bottom was the name; _His Majesty's Double Eagle, _Captn. _Wellend_ _Way—_Fleet Recruiter. Port Llast, berth #2.

_So Flinn's retired too, _Rolan thought. _Time marches on. _Captain Flinn was an old friend of his father from way back. He couldn't remember any other master of the _Eagle. _Yet, now that old sea-dog had retired and a man named Way had taken his place. _Good name for a ship's captain,_ Rolan mused, with a chuckle,_ the Eagle would be under _Way _even when moored to the pier.

* * *

_

_It didn't say good character, just sound mind and body,_ he thought as the answer to the orphanage's problem hit him. He turned toward the waterfront, sketched a snappy salute at the watchmen. "Mornin' 'cloaks," he said cheerily. After they nodded curtly and returned to staring at the well across the square, he set out to find a ship.

Rolan stood at the gangplank and looked up at _H.M. Double Eagle's_ taut rigging. She was one of the best ships in Lord Nasher's fleet, having survived more than her share of cataclysmic storms. Good design, good seamanship, and a damn good crew who served on her were the secrets to her success. After his father retired as master of _H.M. Northern Falcon_, this ship took Nasher's pennant, and became the flagship of the fleet.

"Mornin', Master Edgewater," a short half-elf cabin-boy he recognized from the _Eagle's_ port calls in Highcliff greeted him. "What can we do for ya' t'day?"

"Is Cap'n Way aboard? I'd like to speak to him, if he has the time." Rolan's anger at the situation at the orphanage was hard to conceal.

"Nothin' bad serious, I hope," the cabin boy wondered aloud. Gathering information about possible trouble was any sailor's second nature.

"No... I just need his help," Rolan's distracted answer got him a quizzical look.

"Watch's just changed, he shud be below, in his cabin. Ya know," he gave Rolan a conspirator's wink. "Follow me, Master."

They crossed the freshly washed, holystoned deck and entered a hatch in the sterncastle, leading below to the captain's cabin, near the stern. "Be back in a flash, guv," the cabin boy knocked firmly on the door and entered.

"Go right in guv," the cabin boy ushered him in and stood at the door, he was the ears of the ship now. Anything that went on here would be broadcast throughout the belowdecks area in no time.

The captain stood and held out a hand, saying, "Martin Edgewater's son, Rolan is it?" His grip was firm, but not crushing, that of a gentleman. "Martin and I were on the cutter that captured the _Drow Princess_. She was later re-rigged and named the _Northern Falcon. _We were decorated by Lord Nasher for that bit of work—The _Princess_ was manned by the nastiest band of cutthroat bastards on the_ Sword Coast_. Some say they were undead, but they were men just like the rest. We proved that when we put them all to the sword—No trial. What can the _Eagle _do for you, my friend?" he asked gesturing to a chair in front of his desk.

It took Rolan some time to explain the conditions at the orphanage and their cause. He finished by proposing his idea, inspired by the _Eagle's_ recruiting poster.

Captain Wellend Way sat back in his chair and considered his options. Finally, he put forth a plan. "If this boy is near his majority, like you say, his matron can enlist him with an _Article of Indenture_." He opened a drawer and drew out a written form. "This document will bind him to service on this ship for, oh, lets say three summers. The Master will retain a right to renew on good behavior." His eyes had a hard glint. "And his survival will _be _on good behavior. Discipline is something we are very good at."

Rolan's heart was lifted at this news. "There is one thing, though, Captain; Some of the children at the orphanage are drow... dark elves. Will that be a problem?" He wasn't prepared to have his hopes dashed by anyone's hatred of the drow.

"No problem at all. You'll see," he said gesturing to the cabin boy lounging near the door. "Fifer, round up Mister Gray. Tell him I want a shore party with two layabouts, the ship's carpenter, and the surgeon. Have them collect a day's rations. They are to stand by the gangway, while the surgeon and Mister Gray report to me here. Got that? Good... Move out."

* * *

A knock on the captain's door rattled it in its frame. At the command _come,_ the largest man Rolan had ever seen entered, ducking to avoid braining himself. "Ya called, Cap'n?" This grey skinned giant's voice was like doom itself.

"Mister Gray, meet Rolan Edgewater, Martin's son," Captain Way introduced his visitor. "Rolan, this is my _Master at Arms, _Mister Gray. I stole him away from the _Falcon..._ after your father retired, that is."

The grey orc shook his hand with great care, stepping aside to allow a very petite, very beautiful dark elf woman to enter. The orc was obviously entranced by her.

"And this vision of elven beauty is our surgeon, _Caeryth_, who stubbornly refuses to tell us her house-name," the captain's affection was obvious as well.

She took Rolan's hand and replied, "Please, call me doc, everyone else here does, for some obscure reason." Her sensual voice and dazzling smile reminded him of his Lillith.

Indeed, Rolan did see why the drow children would be no problem. "My Lady, it is a pleasure to meet you," he said with as much charm as he could muster.

"Well, it's nice to meet _someone_ with manners," the surgeon winked at the captain and smiled at Rolan.

"Mister Gray," the captain's eyes sparkled with mirth. "There's a young man at the orphanage here in port who hears the call to a seafaring life, but needs some advice about how to heed that call. What do you think?" he asked.

The giant had heard this before, so he joined right in. "Cap'n, the crown has outlawed press gangs..." he said with apparent regret. "and barring another war with Luskan, they won't be back. It gladdens my heart to hear he _wishes_ to join us." His smile was predatory.

Captain Way passed the rolled up document to the dark elf. "Doc, you're in charge. The matron was roughed up some, she may need some attention. Get her mark on this and bring our recruit to me. Take all the time you need, even if we delay sailing. If the carpenter needs more time, leave him and the layabouts there and return to my cabin. That is all."

He turned to Rolan and continued, "There is one thing I'll need from you. The labor of my crew is _gratis_, that goes without saying, but materiel and food to rebuild what was damaged... I hope you understand." He was embarrassed to ask, but his ship was a business.

Rolan understood immediately. "Agreed, captain, I'd even pay for the labor. It's that important. What do you need from me?" he asked; He was familiar with merchant negotiations, that was his job at his father's trading firm.

The captain waved his hand. "Just the word of Martin Edgewater's son is more than enough. I'll present the draft in Highcliff the next time we call there." He stood, spit in his hand and extended it. "Thanks for bringing this to my attention."

He took the captain's extended hand, sealing the deal. "I can't thank you enough, Captain-Fair winds." He followed the surgeon and Mister Gray topside where the rest of the shore party waited.

* * *

As soon as Rolan stepped through the sterncastle hatch, it seemed as if the hells had come to _The Double Eagle._ The watch bell on the quarterdeck was ringing constantly, while a powerful voice rang out; _All hands... repel boarders... port side, now...repel boarders... port side, now._

He was not one to volunteer for anything, but salt water ran in his veins. "Mister Gray," Rolan called to the _Eagle's Master at Arms._ "Where do you want me?"

The grey-orc was in the process of arming what few sailors were still aboard, most were ashore on leave. "Take yur bow to the foc'stle," he said, pointing toward the bow of the ship. "Keep them bastads of'n the waist. If they get aboard, we're done fur."He turned back to the arms locker, passing out blades and clubs, while directing his meager forces to their posts.

Rolan climbed the ladder to the forward deck, just aft of the bow, called the forecastle by most seafarers. The marauders were approaching from the seaside, on the left, called the port side. As he readied the hunter's bow, he counted three longboats, each pulled by two pairs of oars, manned by two men at each oar. With that much man-power those boats would be very fast. One boat was already alongside, close enough to make the watch keeper in the crow's nest aloft sound an alarm.

There was no question the pirates were attacking this ship. No boat was allowed within an arrow's distance without first hailing the watch, approaching after permission was given. These boats had ignored the ages old convention.

At the word to attack from Mister Gray, who was amidships on the lowest open weather deck, called the waist, Rolan's first arrow took the tiller man on the longboat that had drawn alongside.

"Let Mister Gray's crew take the ones alongside." the ship's surgeon was beside him, like most drow, she was as quiet as a whisper. "We need to concentrate on those other boats," she said above the clash and clatter of sharpened blades below.

Though she was a healer, she could take a life as well. Her bow took out two successive pirates from the helm of the second boat. Each time a brigand moved aft to take control of the tiller, Doc's arrow would send him to the hells where he belonged.

She tolerated Rolan staring at her shortbow for another moment, then said, "Get to it, sailor, those faithless sons of Luskan whores will be here shortly... move it." She stepped closer to the rail and loosed another missile. "The far boat... pepper it. _Kill them._" The blood lust was upon her.

He stepped closer to the rail and drew his arrow back. Taking a short breath, he sighted on the steersman and released. The arrow flew true and found its mark. _One down, nine more to go,_ he told himself. He'd forgotten to count his arrows, there were maybe twelve or thirteen left—Each one counted. After loosing off four more, Rolan's score was four pirates dead, one wounded, for five missiles spent. The far longboat had now slowed considerably.

There was now a lull in the battle. All of the marauders that boarded the _Eagle _hadbeen dispatched by the defending deck hands; Their mutilated corpses thrown back into their longboat to be burned later. The remaining boats, not willing to admit defeat, had withdrawn to just beyond bow range. They appeared to be waiting.

Rolan looked over his shoulder, taking a quick count. "I've got eight arrows left... hope that's enough," he said, looking down to the lower deck where the captain and Mister Gray were mustering the crew and assessing the damage done by the pirates' surprise raid.

"I've got ten," the dark elf replied. After a quick scan of the two remaining boats, she lowered her bow. "Keep an eye on those boats. Fire on them if they even look like they're too close. They may need me below—Stay sharp." She turned back from the ladder leading down to the waist. "You're pretty damned good with that hunter's bow, even though you're not used to it." She winked at him, and without waiting for a reply, nimbly slid down the handrail on her rump to the lower deck.

* * *

Feeling like he had nothing better to do, Rolan took a watchman's tour around the foredeck. The first thing he noticed was the pier the _Double Eagle _was moored to was deserted. _Where in the nine hells is the damned town watch? _His opinion of Haeromos' leadership ability, already woefully low, dropped even more.

The second thing; When he returned to his station near the forechains, a bundle of cables that supported the forward mast, the remaining longboats were pulling away, showing their sterns. "Run, you cowardly curs," Rolan couldn't help shouting at their retreating backs. Several sailors looked up at him and smiled—They shared his fighting spirit. Nobody cheered, though, the odds were even that the ship that sent those boats out would make an appearance... soon.

Doc was back before Rolan even missed her. "Very few injuries, compared to their losses. Mister Gray's hellions got all ten in the first boat, I killed four in the second boat, and you got four as well in the third. Maybe the one you wounded will die, we can always hope. That makes eighteen, maybe nineteen out of thirty," she reported. "But they may be just testing our defenses. As soon as we're sure they're gone, we'll shove off for the orphanage... I promise."

"You're still going to the waif's home?" Rolan was mystified. "After all this...?"

She looked back at him with barely suppressed amusement. "We've had battle drills that were tougher than this lot," she scoffed. "We sent those scabrous dogs back home with only one third of our full complement," she said with pride. "We are _sailors_, Master Edgewater, not _traders_," she said, showing more drow than he'd seen in a long time, even from a furious Lillith.

* * *

"Thank you, Captain Way. I'm honored," Rolan said, as he accepted the beautiful, captured cutlass presented to him by the ship's crew. Turning the scabbard over, he pointed to a small brass plate fastened near the hilt. On it was an intricately engraved image of a dragon on the wing. "This came from the armory on the _Sea Dragon; _The scourge of the southern Sword Coast," he said, wondering if the longboats they'd fought today came from that legendary privateer.

Doc laid a hand on his arm and squeezed. "I took the liberty of consecrating your new blade to our _Lady Silverhair's _service," she smiled knowingly. Grasping the hilt behind its carefully polished handguard, she pulled the sword far enough out for Rolan to see the image of _Eilistraee_ she'd engraved on the blade with magic just a few moments before.

"You honor me as well, _Lady Priestess of Eilistraee_," he said solemnly. He'd noticed a pendant she wore at her throat that bore her goddess' image. The future for the little ones at the orphanage was as bright as its gold disk.

_Shore party to the gangway, _the bosun's resonant voice called from the quarterdeck. _The_ _Sea Dragon _had declined to engage _The Double Eagle _and withdrew to maybe fight her another day. Knowing this, the shore party shoved off to another engagement... at the Port Llast orphanage.

* * *

The _Double Eagle's _shore party was gathered at the waif's home front door. With two human able-bodied seamen, an elven ship's carpenter, and the ever imposing grey orc _Master at Arms, _Mister Gray, there was plenty of muscle, if needed. Though they weren't expecting any trouble, the seamen carried truncheons with stern orders to use them sparingly.

Doc and Rolan met the mistress in the entry hall. She seemed to be in a better mood, even sparing a nervous smile for her returning son-in-law. "Things are almost back to normal now," she said with what she thought was a look of relief. "We won't need the watch, now—Daniel is... still resting."

Rolan hoped that in spite of her change in attitude, she would follow through. Ignoring this situation wouldn't make it go away. "I think I've found a solution to... Daniel's problems, but we'll need your help." He felt that indenturing the miscreant would turn his life around—Daniel just needed some guidance.

"If you think it will work," she didn't seem to be convinced. "Tell me about it and we will see," she stated—To challenge was this dwarf matron's nature.

The dark elf stepped up and said, "We want to enlist this young man. He will serve aboard the _Double Eagle _for three seasons, giving him a chance at a better life. He will not be a stranger to hard work and discipline." Doc's reply was better than any recruiting poster. To sweeten the deal, she added, "Our Captain Way has started a new program that returns a tenth of the recruit's pay to his orphanage, in the belief that we should never forget where we came from." Her stern demeanor assured that the boy would be in good hands.

The matron absently put her hand to her head and winced when it encountered the bandage that had been hastily applied. "He needs the kind of discipline that I cannot give him," she lamented. "What do you need me to do?" She'd made up her mind.

Doc looked at Rolan and smiled. "First, let me see... " she replied, gently pulling the dwarf's protesting hands away to take a look. "Hmm... that cut will need stitching. You don't want a scar, do you? Come with me," she said, opening the door to the matron's office. "Oh Rolan," she said, turning back. "Would you tell Mister Gray that young Daniel needs help packing and saying good bye?" Her sly wink finished the thought. "And tell Gray, I said, _mind the little natives."_ Again, a wink that was not-quite salacious.

"Aye, Lady," Rolan responded at once. "Right away." He turned to begin the assault of the orphanage.


	16. Highcliff II

The Knight-Captain was on edge. Everything was going according to plan, but time was passing and Lord Nasher's patience was bound to wear thin. Her tasks of gathering allies and finding some way to defeat, or at least weaken the _King of Shadows_ weren't much farther along than the planning stages.

A ten-day had passed since they'd petitioned _Sehanine _on behalf of Ammon Jerro's great-granddaughter. Two communions since then had given Tiernah and Isilme'len brief glimpses of the progress of the _chosen ones._ They were doing well and should return at the rise of the next full moon.

The angle of the sun through her bedroom window marked the time at near mid-day. Tie's efforts to pen something to Lord Nasher that made some kind of sense only produced a small pile of crumpled up paper on the bed's counterpane. She was about to curse out loud when a voice at the door made her look up.

"Writing your resignation?" her visitor asked, tail sweeping back and forth. "Or are you making fuzz-balls to start a fire with? You were never much good at starting one out in the field—Maybe you could take a lesson from _princess _Qara?"

The Knight-Captain put on a pained expression, looking up at the ceiling. "_Defender of_ _Neverwinter._.. how can you defend her here in the wilds of Highcliff? Have you deserted? I think the watch is coming—Can you hear them?"

With a _harrumpf_ of disgust, her visitor spun and stalked to the front door.

Just about the time she would have reached the door, Tiernah called out, "Neeshka, good to see you. Where ya been?" With that, she sat back against the headboard and waited patiently.

The rogue poked her head around the door and sniffed. "I... that is, we, have been doing _your_ job," she said, taking a look around the room. "Got anything to eat? I've been on the road since last night."

"'E'len will be home before the hour is up. She usually brings something from the bakery," Tie replied. "Have a seat and tell me about this job I'm _not_ doing." Neeshka couldn't miss the edginess in her friend's tone.

"This... war... with the _King of Shadows—_A lot has happened," she said, collecting her thoughts before continuing. "As you know, Lord Nasher has set up a group of C_loaktower_ Mages in Crossroad Keep. The escape tunnel has rooms that fill the bill for them nicely. A day or so after getting them settled in, your foster-father came to us, looking for you. He left a message with Elanee—Said that the _Circle of the Mere_ had survived."

"Then Kaleil was mistaken," Tie concluded. "They escaped the darkness that ensnared him."

"No... they didn't," she said with a shake of her head. "Elanee wasn't going to wait for you to return, so she rounded up Khelgar, Casavir, and Zhjaeve..."

"Casavir?" Tie interrupted. "Why was he involved in the circle's affairs?" She was mystified.

"He refused to let Elanee go to the _mere _alone. Khelgar jumped in as well." It was the rogue's turn to be mystified. "Well, anyway... we've been there before—Remember _Arvahn_? When we got to the _mere,_ the druids held one of their own, Naevan, trapped in an ancient tree. Elanee... she... they treated her like she was responsible for them not feeling the malaise creeping up on the land_._ Then they had the gall to demand that she join them or die. They wanted the shadows to cleanse civilization from their _sacred _lands." She shook her head sadly.

The Knight-Captain had to smile—There was a time when her tiefling friend wouldn't have given a tinker's damn about the druids. "They were corrupted by the shadows. That seems to be the _Illefarn Abomination's _way. How did Elanee handle it?" she asked with some concern.

"She was devastated," Neeshka recounted. "We had to kill them...put them out of their misery. When Naevan was released, he tried to help her understand the act of love that it was. Her heart is still badly wounded, just like when we had to kill those wolves at the _Highcliff_ _Castle Ruins._ It's going to take a while to heal.

"I guess Casavir will have something to do now," Tie mused. "He fancies himself to be a healer of broken hearts."

"Hello there,_ Carad Tarkar, Nae saian luume'_," Rolan's mom ushered in the smell of fresh bread and a shepherd's pie.

"Isilme'len, _Oio naa elealla alasse',_" Neeshka returned somberly. When she'd first met E'len, there was a wall of reserve in the moon elf's manner that had taken a while to break down. Being friends with her son had moved the process along. When Rolan married Lillith, the moon elf had relaxed visibly.

"With perfect pronunciation," E'len smiled at Neeshka. "My Lady Knight-Captain, you are a good influence. You both must be hungry. Let me get to the kitchen and serve this while it is still warm." She left them to follow the enticing smell.

* * *

She slept the sleep of the just in a nest that commanded a view of a somewhat cluttered territory. There was enough cover for her prey to wander with little worry about safety. That foolish notion would be swept away like smoke on the breeze when she pounced. Their lives given to continue her existence.

Sharp eyesight, keen hearing, and a well developed sense of smell were the tools of her trade. Her weapons; Well adapted teeth and claws, all directed by a dark intelligence and a killer instinct bent on survival, were always ready. A growing hunger hadn't grown strong enough to rouse her...yet.

She awoke with a start. The smell of food made her hunger that much more demanding. Edging quietly to the bluff, she looked down...

* * *

When they crossed the sitting room, Neeshka paused to admire a wall hanging mounted over the mantel. It was an intricately carved relief of a ship under sail working its way through a heavy sea. A polished brass plate at the bottom read; _His Majesty Lord Nasher Alagondar's Northern Falcon—Capt. Martin Edgewater, Master. 1374 DR._

Just below the plate, mounted on two sturdy cord wrapped pegs was a weapon like Neeshka had never seen. The blade on this scimitar was fully a hand wide, with more curve from handguard to point than seemed practical. The scabbard was split for more than the first third of its length just to encase this mighty weapon.

_Impressive side-arm,_ the rogue thought. She'd never met the esteemed captain, but if he was anything like his son, Nasher's fleet lost a hell-of-a-sailor when he retired. She turned, making a quick scan of the room—Something or someone was watching her, tickling that awareness most good scouts carefully developed. Seeing nothing there, she followed Tiernah across the dining room to the kitchen.

* * *

An outraged squawk from the dining room caused E'len to pause cutting the pie and look up. "I think Moonbow's got another victim," she said, finishing the cut and turning to set out plates. "She jumps Rolan all the time, especially when he's not looking." After thinking for a moment, she offered some advice; "If you see her looking down from her nest on the breakfront, just hiss at her. She sees you watching; She'll leave you alone."

_Heh...the back-stabber gets back-stabbed, _Tie thought with wry amusement. Here was another dart she could throw at Neeshka-When the time was right. She grabbed a cup and picked up the kettle.

"Where in the nine hells did you find this damned thing?" the rogue asked, holding out a ball of squealing russet colored fury at arm's length. "_Shush... _you devil," she commanded. "You're done—It's over."

The familiar quieted, hanging limply in Neeshka's grip. She then bit the rogue's hand, as if to say, _it's not over 'til Moonbow says it's over,_ and ran up an arm.

* * *

They were once again in Tie's bedroom, sitting on the bed with a fully fed, contented spirit vessel asleep between them.

"At this point, we're covering for you," Neeshka began. "I heard from Ophala that Lord Nasher is wondering what's taking you so long."

"It's complicated," her friend replied. "Lillith and Rolan are on a trial. We don't know where they are or when they'll return. It may be two more ten-days; A full month. One thing we are sure of; Both E'len and I need to be here and in communion for their return."

"I'll have to take your word on that," the rogue was skeptical. "Anyway... to keep the nobles off my back, I rounded up Khelgar and the gang; Me, him, Zhjaeve, Elanee, and, are you ready? Qara..."

"Qara..." Tie broke in. "Are you sure that was wise? What about her and Ammon?" She didn't want to come home to a pile of ashes that was once called _Crossroad Keep._

"I'm still in the dark about that," Neeshka replied, a thoughtful look on her face. "Elanee and Grobnar are involved somehow. The druid is being evasive about it." She reached down to touch Moonbow's fur. "Ammon wanders around in a daze, muttering about selling his soul, and Qara is her usual snotty self. Though, there is a kind of triumphant strut in her gait. I'll need to dig to get to the bottom of it."

"Well, good luck with that," Tie replied. She knew how hard it was to understand what went on in one's absence, let alone, find out what really happened. "If you can motivate Qara and get her going in the right direction, she can be a valuable asset," the Knight-Captain said, believing that was the most important lesson of leadership. "So, who was the leader of this band of hellions?" she was almost afraid to ask.

"Zhjaeve," the rogue replied, smiling at her friend's confusion. "We didn't all decide, or anything... it just... happened. I like her because she has nothing to gain;I trust her. Khelgar, like any good dwarf with bad breath, just follows along. Elanee respects her wisdom. Qara is in awe of her; It's like the Githzerai... is... her mother?" Neeshka wasn't into figuring out life's mysteries.

"The Zerth's leadership can only better your odds for success," Tie agreed. Though her reason for being in Faerun was a mystery, Zhjaeve earned respect for her quiet demeanor and logical thinking. She seemed a bit passive for a leader, but that could be the person she wanted to portray. "So, the group is ready—Where to?" the Knight-Captain prodded.

Neeshka rolled her eyes and continued; "Khelgar, gods love him, was of the opinion that his clan would jump right in with Neverwinter. Boy, was he mistaken. When we got to the clanhold, remember the bugbears?" she asked with a sniff. "his brother Keros practically spit on him, and threw us all out. Before the door could close on us, stumpy's _other_ brother, Khulmar, took us aside and showed us a way to win the clan's respect."

"Overthrow Keros?" Tie ventured a guess. "Take the throne from that upstart..."

"You're half right," the rogue cut in. "As usual," she smirked. "Remember the _Gauntlets of Ironfist_ we found... _we found _when liberating the clanhold from the bugbears? Khulmar showed us this great hulking hammer that no one could lift without magical help. It turned out that those gloves, paired with _another_ relic," she rolled her eyes again, "called _The Belt of Ironfist _enabled one to lift this artifact of great significance, and entitled him to the clan's throne." she finished, taking a deep breath.

"Does this entrancing tale have an end?" the Knight-Captain asked, placing a thumb on her chin to keep her head up.

"I'm here aren't I?" the rogue asked, starting to heat up. "Long story leads to short ending; The belt was given to the fire giants on _Mount Galardrym_ by their greatly esteemed _King Loudram. _Khelgar is touchy about that legend. The fire giants said that_ Loudram _was a coward and gave them the belt to save their sorry hides."

"I'm sure that didn't go over well with the Ironfists," Tie mused.

"I think _Loudram_ did run, but that's not the point," Neeshka continued. "The Gith defused the situation after we kicked some fire giant butt by presenting the belt to the dwarf in a ceremony atop that pile of blistering hot rock. Speaking of hot, mistress Qara outdid herself when she used all cold spells on the giants; Not a peep of dissent nor disrespect from her. Could it be that... she's... growing up?" the rogue wondered.

"There's always hope, I suppose," Tie replied. _Don't look now, my friend, but someone else is too, s_he thought proudly.

"To wrap it up," she said. "Khelgar lifted the mighty _Hammer of Ironfist,_ giving him the right to rule the Ironfists." Then she shook her head. "And do you know the first bonehead move _King _Khelgar made?" she asked, an almost comical moue twisted her face.

Knowing the state of the uneasy truce between dwarf and tiefling, Tiernah shook her head.

"He put that bastard Keros right back in charge," Neeshka couldn't believe how stupid a smelly dwarf, could be.

"There is a bit of wisdom in what he did." Tie was thoughtful. "It united both factions in a divided clan; The members that were faithful to the crown, along with the few who refused to abandon a brother. It's what I would have done; I'm sure you would have too."

"I guess you're right, I never was one for deep thinking," she sighed, then her eyes lit up. "There's something on that mountain that could really help us," she enthused. "There is a dragon's hoard with the biggest pile of gold I've ever seen. It would take a small army to haul it all away."

"Along with a small army to kill the dragon that guards it, right?" Tiernah asked with a straight face.

"With the power _you've _assembled, I think _we _could do it," the rogue insisted. "But that's for later, much later. Right now, a fellow named Khralver is waiting at the Phoenix Tail Inn. He says Sydney Natale wants to meet with you, Zhjaeve, and Qara; Said something about the_ shadow reavers._ He refused to say any more. It may be a trap though," Neeshka said, her instinct about traps was always dead on.

The Knight-Captain's decision was easy. Although Natale's request was suspect, the moon elf felt compelled to at least talk with Luskan's replacement for their recently disgraced ambassador, Torio Claven. "Let's see what our _friends_ from Luskan have to say," Tiernah proposed. "Do you need rest, or are you good-to-go?" she asked.

"I'm always ready," the rogue shot back. "You won't be waiting on me. My stuff is in the sitting room; Still packed up."

"Do you have any arrows?" Tie asked as she carefully stowed a change of clothes in her battle pack; She'd decided to travel lightly to Crossroad Keep to meet Natale's emissary. From the rack in the corner, she selected her _Elven Court Lightningbow _and _Eridis Harvester._ The harvester was a bit heavy, but something told her there would be a good use for it. "Let's go," she said, giving Moonbow a thorough scratching. "Stay here, sweetheart, we'll be back before you know it."

"Here, you can have half of these," Neeshka handed Tie the arrows. "They're _adamantine_—Being a lieutenant in Neverwinter's service has to be good for something, right?"

* * *

As the Knight-Captain and the Cloaktower-Lieutenant approached the Highcliff Village court-house, they couldn't help but notice the group of village watchmen clustered around their chosen leader—Elder Mayne.

"Elder, the south gate and the entire wall is demolished," a young man dressed in the uniform of the watch reported. "The lizards patrol that south side—nobody gets in, nobody goes out. The Cliffwalk to the landing is blockaded, as well. It's strange, though, we're not under siege to the north, it's clear."

"Good job, Milton," the Elder replied. "Any casualties?"

"Three, Elder—Two of our guards killed in the first encounter and one wounded," he answered. "We've captured one of them. It's in the holding pen in the village square."

"Very well, watchman, split your forces and station half at the south gate and the other half at Cliffwalk," he said. After dismissing his watch sergeant, the Elder turned to Tiernah and Neeshka, saying, "I remember you two—your timing is fortuitous. It seems the lizards are in revolt again. Can I assume that you're here to help us again?"

"Certainly, Elder—We are at your service," Tie was looking down the street at the burned out watchtower that had once commanded the south gate. "What happened here?" she asked.

The Elder was puzzled. "We don't know for certain. The lizardmen appeared this morning at the south end of the village. They haven't tried to move into Highcliff itself. They simply stood their ground and fortified themselves right outside the ruined gate.

The Elder's clerk Juni then spoke up; "After they killed two of our village watchmen, those beasts blocked the Cliffwalk itself, so now we have no access to the water."

"So, we'll find them at the south gate?" Tie asked. Her first step was to make contact. The negotiations could continue from there.

"They have larger encampments south of the village, but they maintain a blockade just outside. We did manage to take one of their soldiers captive in the first fight, but it has yet to offer any useful information." With that said, the Elder led them to the makeshift prison.

* * *

Neeshka looked up from her examination of the wounded lizardman. "He's in a bad way. I'll do what I can." She addressed the sour faced watchman standing at the gate to the cattle-pen-turned-prison, "Did you even think to treat your prisoner? What if he dies?"

"One less to worry about," the guard said, with a shrug. "They killed two of my friends—Should I care?"

The rogue turned back to her task with a sigh. "He doesn't realize the chance we have here," she grumbled. "Bringing this soldier back alive will score points with the lizards—There's at least a chance they'll listen if we do."

"Good point," Tie agreed, passing her a healing kit. "We'll also get some idea of what's going on. The watch is clueless." She though for a moment, looked up at the guard, then added, "Something tells me we're on our own here."

The rogue met her eyes, but said nothing.

The lizard soldier didn't like the taste of the healing potion, but he took it any way. "You help Vlssk... why?" he asked, sitting with his back to a corner post. His eyes never left the guard slouching at the barred gate.

"I don't let the helpless die," the moon elf said, making a big show of tending the lizard's wounds. "But I need to know why your tribe is here."

His eyes flicked down to the sutures in an arm. He winced at the pain and said, "Highcliff is ancient home. Warmbloods take from tribes." His watchful eyes returned to the guard. "Now we take back."

Neeshka's eyes bored into hers. They were thinking alike; _Something's happened to their leader. The lizards rarely broke a treaty without good reason. _"But, Highcliff is far from your ancestral home in the _mere_. This isn't a swamp—What use is it to your people?" Tie asked.

It was as if he was reciting dogma; "Once, all land here is swamp—_Tribe's _swamp. Batha say so. He speak for tribe and he speak for spirits; He chief—He shaman." the lizardman said with the conviction of a true believer.

"Where is Batha?" Tie inquired, seeing her chance to meet the lizardfolk's new chief. "We'd like to speak with him."

Vlssk was struggling to gain his feet. Tie and Neeshka stepped forward to help him. Waving them away, he replied, "Batha will speak to Shard-Bearer." He looked directly at the Knight-Captain. "Vlssk take Shard-Bearer to Pod-Leader." He swayed on his feet. This time, he reluctantly tolerated their assistance.

* * *

The lizard warrior led them south, past a neglected kitchen-garden to the pod of lizards besieging the village. They encountered some resistance from the guard at the pen when leaving, but the rogue convinced him that interfering with crown affairs was not a good idea—He reluctantly yielded, assuring them that releasing the enemy was treason.

"The Shard-Bearer," Vlssk called out. "The Shard-Bearer is here." The sound of running feet answered the lizard's call.

A familiar figure parted the assembled pod of lizard warriors, surprising the Knight-Captain. "Slaan, why did your people turn on the villagers of Highcliff? We had a treaty," she asked with a hint of challenge.

The pod-leader drew himself up to his full height, his followers were watching. "Slaan not want break truce, but Batha say we _must_ for good of tribes. Tribes now strong because of Batha. We can live, even with swamp gone. But _Slaan _not want harm village. Slaan _and _tribe stay and guard, only fight human when must." His tone was for his followers, his words were for the Shard-Bearer.

Tie admired the lizardman's honor. One day, he would be chief—She was sure of it. "Then, we need to speak with Batha. Can you take us to him?" she asked.

"Slaan send runner—You will talk to Batha when he come. Batha will know what to do," he answered, relieved that the Shard-Bearer had finally come to meet with the lizardfolk's shaman-chief.

Grey Co. Elven Translations;

_Carad Tarkar_-Red Horns

_Nae saian luume'_-It has been too long.

Oio naa elealla alasse'_-_Ever is thy sight a joy_._


	17. Highcliff Clearing

The Knight-Captain of Crossroad Keep and her Cloaktower-Lieutenant were surrounded by lizardmen. From this group's pod-leader, they learned that the siege of Highcliff was the lizard shaman-chief's call to meet with the Shard-Bearer.

"He comes," a voice called from the distance; Repeated up the line of sentries; "Batha comes."

Two heavily armed lizardmen entered the clearing, causing the warriors present to form a loose semi-circular rank around Tie and Neeshka. "Silence," the larger of the two _Batha-Guards_ called them to attention. "Batha must deal with Shard-Bearer."

There was no mistaking the lizard's chief; Aside from his impressive size, he was the only one wearing leather armor. He entered and stopped just short of his guards, sweeping the assembled troops with a critical eye. _The Shard-Bearer-I have seen you in my waking dreams. I have known your face for some time. It is the face of the one who will decide the future of my tribe, _he said in a voice no ear could hear-A voice so unlike his brothers', Neeshka was put on her guard.

"You have a rare talent," Tiernah said aloud. "How did you learn to speak using your mind?" Not sure of the lizard's talent, she guarded her thoughts.

_I have been given many _gifts, _so that I might meet you this day._ His well modulated voice held little emotion. It reminded the moon elf of the serene intonations of a priest leading a worship service. "You getting his speech?" she whispered to Neeshka, her eyes on Batha.

"Yeah... spooky," the rogue murmured, not moving. Not sure that this lizard could read her mind, she inventoried her gem-bag in her mind; _canary_ _diamond, ruby, emerald, blood stone..._

"Why have you trapped the villagers here?" Tie asked. "We had a treaty with Slaan's tribe."

_Because it brought _you _here. The ghosts of my forefathers told me this would come to pass, and now, I stand before the _Shard-Bearer.

"So, you are now the leader of the lizardmen here?" Tie pointed to the group in this clearing.

_I lead _all _lizardman tribes. They join me because I have been given power from our ancestral spirits. Our ancestors saw the destruction of our land and came to me deep in the swamp. They filled my sight with that which is to come. I saw the end of my people, so I became a vessel for their rage. In me, you see the will of _all _the lizardmen._

"You called me the Shard-Bearer-Why?" she asked.

_My visions tell me many things. I see the shard, your shard, your wound. It is the wound of our land, always is it in my visions. And now my land is in shadow, the waters poisoned. The sun is cloaked by night, and cannot warm us. I know that you are responsible, and so I have waited for you._

"Now I am here. What do you want of me?" Tie asked, not quite sure what to expect. She missed Elanee's wisdom.

_I wanted to see the _Shard-Bearer_ with my own eyes. I have come to tell you that we will _not _accept death as our fate. I will rip the blade from your chest first before drowning in the blackened swamp._ His eyes were locked on the Knight-Captain's face.

Tie took a step forward and said, "This shard isn't responsible for your troubles. It may be tied to what's happening in the swamp, but it did not cause the destruction there. If those spirits are truly your ancestors, they would know this. They are slaves to the _King of Shadows. _They are lying to you."

Batha bristled. _If the spirits are false, why would they grant me power and guide me here?_

Tie could see his doubt growing, so she pressed her point; "Because they want _you _to kill _me-_then they'll kill all of _you._"

The lizard chief was considering this. _Impossible, or so I had thought. I do not trust you, but I cannot deny my doubt either. But... I have experienced the visions and felt the presence of my ancestors. I have only heard your _words._ Let us see what truth lies in your actions, then if I am but a misguided servant of a great evil, then surely you can defeat me._

"As you wish, Lord Batha," Tie said, taking a step back. She felt a hand on her shoulder, the tiefling had her back.

Batha spread his arms in a sweeping gesture. "Stay back! I will show this one the strength of our people." His luminous emerald eyes were on the Knight-Captain. "Prepare yourself, Shard-Bearer."

* * *

The staff that the lizard's chief carried was little more than a walking stick, a symbol of his power; His attacks would be magical. Tie's glance at the tiefling behind her gave her confidence a boost. The rogue was kneeling over the shoulder bag that went everywhere with her, digging around with little concern for what was going on. She pulled out a scroll and unrolled it, nodding that she was ready.

The Knight-Captain laid her battle pack and bow aside, they were a hindrance to her. She looked up to see an earth elemental standing at the edge of the clearing that had become an arena. Advancing on the construct, she heard Neeshka say, "Hold it back until I read this scroll-One dispel coming up." Her next words sounded vaguely druidic.

There was a gasp and quite a few hisses from the lizards as the harvester's lightning-enhanced blade sheared the elemental's striking arm off at the shoulder. The effort almost wrenched the pole-arm from Tie's grasp. She side-stepped the hulk's next blind rush and raked its back as it went by. Before it could turn back for another charge it just seemed to walk itself into the ground, leaving a smear of rocky soil on the gravel path.

"Gotcha', shadow bastard," the rogue taunted. She pulled open her bag and pulled out another scroll. Tucking it into a shoulder strap, she readied her bow for the next round.

Batha pointed at two of his personal guards and then at the Shard-Bearer. "For the honor of your ancestors-_Kill_ her." As the lizard warriors drew their blades and joined the battle, a shimmering ball of fire closed around the shaman-chief; His magic was his armor.

Tiernah was outnumbered, but not outmatched. The butt of her scythe applied to one lizard's chest put him down for the moment, while an accurate sweep of the blade ended the other's life; His head flew one way, his body, the other. A volley of hisses assailed her when she stepped back to allow the winded warrior to get back to his feet.

She handed her harvester to a perplexed Neeshka. "Got a sword I can borrow?" she asked the rogue with a sly wink. "Time for a sparring lesson."

"Uhh.. sure," Neeshka replied, unsheathing her dwarf-elven hammersword, a gift from Rolan when they'd parted ways after the first lizard treaty four short summers ago. "Are you sure about playing games with these guys?" she asked, handing the blade over.

"From here on, it's just a show," Tie assured her. "Look in Batha's eyes; He knows he can't win."

"Does the word _overconfident_ mean anything? Gods, Tie, it's been too easy so far." the rogue's gaze was steady, her eyes widened at the lizard chief's transformation. "Watch him-There's a stone hulk now standing where Batha was watching the show," she said laying the scythe down carefully and drawing an arrow.

The _Batha Guard_ was well trained; His attacks were savage and accurate. The moon elf made him work for every hand-breadth of ground he gained, then she beat him back to their starting point with some savagery of her own. The lizard was slowing-He hadn't been trained for a drawn out battle. Tie ended it after her second parry with a blinding fast riposte that disarmed her opponent. She stepped back and rested her hands on the sword's pommel, the point was resting on the ground.

The defeated guard was unsure of what to do. After looking around at the hissing, growling onlookers, he bent over to retrieve his blade. Before he could straighten up, he was trampled to a bloody pulp by a stone golem that had been Batha just moments before. He paid for his loss with his life.

Batha paused to pull Neeshka's lightning arrow from a joint in his rock encased neck, dropping it like a burning brand. Then he turned to face the Shard-Bearer, who'd taken a large chunk out of his left side with the hammer side of the rogue's lightning blade. Since he was focused on trampling the moon elf to death, he didn't hear Neeshka's vaguely druidic recitation.

The moon elf managed to evade the rock-beast's grasp. He was surprisingly quick and time was now on his side; Repeated attempts to stab him with her sword only threatened to break it as the blade bent alarmingly-Even its cold-iron would not penetrate. Her mind raced, clutching at solutions. She was beginning to tire, as Batha doggedly chased her in circles. When he caught up with her, it would be over. _Sehanine, watch over me, give me strength._ She whispered, offering herself to the will of _Moonlight's Mystery._

As if in answer, a narrow beam of blue light descended from the dark sky, engulfing the stone hulk. "He's all yours, moonie," Neeshka exulted. "Dis...spelled...give 'im the hells... every damned one of 'em." Her _Roguebow _was again ready.

In his native saurian form, Batha was in no shape to fight. He stood clutching the wound to his left side, trying to catch his breath. _You... have... beaten me and have destroyed the hope of my tribe... Do... what you will._ He yielded with unspoken words.

Tiernah stood her ground with a sinking feeling in her heart. There were six lizard warriors to fight before this battle ended. She felt a puff of air on her left ear. Neeshka was there. She whispered a prayer of thanks to her _Lunar Lady _for her friend's loyalty, raised her blade... and waited.

Sword blades flashed around the clearing that had yet to become a killing field. "Protect Batha; Protect our chieftain," the pod-leader of the remaining warriors cried. Their circle around the two tightened.

Batha's powerful voice arrested their movement; "Do not bother. If I cannot defeat them, none of you will be able to either--Attend me. We are at their mercy." At his command, the pod formed up behind their leader. A shaman tended to his leader's injury.

The Knight-Captain took a step back, passing the rogue's blade back, hilt first. "We are not here to kill you, Lord Batha, that is not our way," she said, not breaking eye contact with the lizard chief.

His eyes narrowed. Was this human playing some kind of trick on a defeated enemy? "Then what do you want?" he challenged.

Tie's answer was a simple invitation; "Join with us against the _King of Shadows._"

The chief stood taller; His chin was up. "Batha is no one's _slave_. I will not stand for your mockery." He looked down at his shaman's restraining hand with contempt.

She held her hands out in a placating gesture. "If we don't work together, we may all die."

Batha was not convinced; "You have no proof except your words, and the words of men are often _lies_," he spat. He turned his head to look over his shoulder at the pod-leader's approach.

"Oh great Batha, Shard-Bearer not lie, has good heart," he said. Though muted, his words could be clearly heard. "Shard-Bearer help my tribe before. Ask to touch mind and see," Slaan advised. He was as anxious as the Knight-Captain to resolve this impasse.

The lizard-chief considered. Turning toward the moon elf, he asked, "Will you open your mind to Batha?"

She heard Neeshka's fervent, whispered _no_ in her left ear and understood. After undergoing an ordeal at _Castle Never_ where Tie was charmed by a shadow priest, they were both wary of any mind-spells. "Of course, Lord Batha, I will," she replied. There was no other choice. She heard the distinctive sound of a three-stone shortbow being drawn back fully, along with the sharp crackle of a lightning-charged adamantine arrow near her left ear-Good ol' Neeshka.

Batha, seeing where the missile was aimed, didn't blink an eye. "Then let us be done with it. My life is at your mercy anyway." He stepped up and placed the fingers of his right hand on the moon elf's forehead.

Her world went gray. She felt like she'd been pushed into a dark corner. The wind in the trees, an occasional rattle of a blade, and the hiss of the rogue's arrow anchored Tie in this here and now. The shaman's invasion of her mind was not painful, neither was it pleasant; It was somewhere in between; Something like a hunger-induced headache that seemed to go on forever...

...Consciousness returned, a reluctant surfacing from deep murky water. The Knight-Captain felt a firm hand squeezing her shoulder. The light was like the first lungful of cool air.

When her eyes opened, Batha stepped back and nodded to his troops gathered in the clearing, putting them all at ease. "I see no deceit in _your _mind, and I have seen the gaps in _my_ visions," he said, pitching his voice for all to hear. "I nearly destroyed my people at the behest of our true enemy; _King of Shadows._" He raised his arms to quiet their protests. "The forces of darkness misled us. _But no more. _The shadows infested our homes, poisoned our hearts. _They will leave our lands or they will be destroyed."_ A roar of approval greeted his exhortation.

"I can't believe it worked out like it did," Neeshka murmured, she'd stowed her bow and was collecting their gear that was scattered about the clearing. "You're not a lizard-thrall now are you?" she asked suspiciously, jabbing the moon elf with the butt of her own weapon.

Tie made a half-hearted effort to disarm the rogue and was surprised when it worked. "No... I'm alright--Don't want to go through that again." She took her bag and bow, turning to speak to the lizard chief.

"Lord Batha, your wisdom and power make the lizardfolk a most fearsome ally in our war against the _shadows-that-hunger_. Lord Nasher and Neverwinter welcome you all."

In spite of his wounds, the lizard chief stood a little taller, turning to face his subjects. "An evil one has given my people a great power to do his bidding. We will turn that power against its master-Show the _King of Shadows _his mistake." He paused to think, then continued, "Turn upon the deceiver of my people with his own devices... my tribe will grow strong yet again." He turned to face the Knight-Captain. "Then let it be so. We shall stand together until the shadows are swept from our lands. Where shall we go?" he asked in conclusion.

"Prepare your troops for war," Tie answered. "The Elder in Highcliff will send a runner when My Lord calls, and you will march to Crossroad Keep then. Do you have a representative who would meet with the Elder?"

"Lasshiva and two of her sisters will meet with your Elder," his answer was prompt. "They are our..." he searched for the word, "_matrons_ who possess great wisdom."

Tie was pleased. The lizardfolk would never send a female into danger; This was a great honor. She sketched a bow and said, "Thank you for your tolerance and wisdom, Lord Batha. With your leave, we will return to Highcliff with news of our alliance."

"Very well, Shard-Bearer," he said, extending a beautiful lance that was carved from blade to butt with celestial figures. "Accept this as a symbol of our unity."

She was momentarily taken aback. She had nothing to give in return until she felt something pressed into the palm of her right hand from behind. The rogue had come through-Once again.

Taking the lance with her left hand, Tie offered a long dagger in a jewel encrusted scabbard with her right hand.

Batha nodded his head in a lizardfolk version of a bow and said, "May we set many things right again..._ together_." After taking the offered blade and examining the settings, he turned and swept through his troops, leading them back to their camp.

Neeshka was holding Tie's harvester, her gaze was firm, her tail was still for once. She smiled knowingly when Tie said, "I believe a healthy donation to _Tymora_ is in order."

They found Elder Mayne standing on the court-house steps. He was on his way home for the evening meal. "We saw a fight in the distance. What happened?" He seemed surprised the two had returned.

"It took a little work, and a lot of luck," Tie answered, favoring her tiefling friend with a smile. "But our enemies are now our allies."

"Thank the Gods," the Elder was relieved. "They were so quiet, we didn't even know they were there. Then, all of a sudden, we're besieged... We'd no idea what was happening."

"The _King of Shadow's _influence is spreading. The lizards were just one of a long line of races to be fooled and then destroyed," Tie said, not sure if she should say much about evacuating the village. "When you get _Lord Nasher's_ _Proclamation,_ the lizardfolk will march with you to Crossroad Keep. Batha is their new chief; He will send an emissary, her name is Lasshiva, to meet with you. That should save time and confusion. There's no room here for misunderstanding."

"I see." The Elder was thoughtful. "These are indeed strange times. We will begin our preparations immediately. And again you've earned our eternal gratitude." His meal forgotten, he turned to his new task.

A/N My thanks to _Wyl_ for keeping things _OC._ C.


	18. Neutral Ground

The Knight-Captain busied herself with camp chores while Neeshka slipped into Crossroad Keep to find Khralver Irlingstar, Sydney Natale's emissary. The trip from Highcliff to their camp, set up on the near side of the keep's first bridge, was uneventful. They'd decided to delay Tiernah's official return until Rolan and Lillith were safely home in Highcliff.

The rogue had sent a _Cloaktower_ messenger to Neverwinter with the news of their new Ironfist and lizardfolk allies. Neeshka was confident that Lord Nasher would be pleased.

She heard their voices long before they appeared in the clearing. "... I don't understand why she's..." the emissary was out of sorts and out of breath as he struggled to keep up.

The protest was cut off by a familiar voice; "The _commander _of Crossroad Keep _wants_ it this way," Neeshka's reply was firm. "When _she _speaks, _I _listen-We _all _listen."

_Right,_ the cynical Tie thought._ Pull on his other leg, goat-girl, so they'll both be the same length. _She rolled her eyes as they hove into sight.

Emissary Irlingstar sketched an awkward bow. "Oh most noble _Lord of Crossroad_ _Keep_, _Hero of Neverwinter._ Your adventures are already becoming legendary," he began, looking like a child trying to avoid a whipping.

Seeing the rogue's smirk, Tiernah replied, "Thank you, now... could you skip ahead to the part where you tell me what you want?" Her gaze shifted to the real _Hero of Neverwinter,_ standing behind Khralver.

"Yes... I'll get right to the point. Mistress Natale wishes to meet with you to share information she has regarding a weakness of the _Shadow Reavers. _

Tie crossed her arms and asked, "And what does she want in exchange for this information?"

"Mistress Natale has told me very little, but I believe that your... abilities and those of certain of your companions are required to exploit this weakness. She wishes to meet with them as well," he answered with a look like he had somewhere else to go.

Seeing the rogue reach up and pinch her nostrils between thumb and forefinger, Tie asked, "Which companions does Sydney want to meet with?" thinking, _boy, do I smell a rat too._

Natale's messenger was ready for this question; "The talented girl from the Academy... Quara, and the Gith... Zerai, Zave?"

"You're close enough," Tie's smile was real. She could imagine the pressure that Hosttower witch was placing on this poor man. "We'll meet with her. Make yourself comfortable, we'll be ready to go shortly," She said pulling her rogue friend aside for a briefing.

* * *

They'd been on the road for a little over two leagues when Zhjaeve called a halt. As she stood on the wagon track, looking into the distance, Qara stepped up beside her. She glanced at the sorceress and spoke; "Do you see it," she asked pointing with a glance at what looked like heat-shimmer. "It is still searching. Do you feel ready? We have prepared as much as we are able."

The Knight-Captain, sensing the fight to come drew the emissary to the rear, safely out of danger. Not knowing the situation, she listened carefully to the Gith's conversation.

"Every time I hit the damned thing, it hurt _me_," Qara's pensive reply was puzzling. "And now you're telling me if I kill it, I kill myself too," she said, her voice trembling. "Elanee dispelled it, but it's back. What if... your idea doesn't work?"

"Killing it is one solution available to us, but you must also die in the process. That would be a senseless waste," Zhjaeve answered. She took the girl's chin in hand and continued; "If you fail, I will dispel it... once again. You will then have to face it again, and again, until you master the _will _to put it down for good. I have faith in you-you _can _do this."

Qara put on a brave face, took a deep breath, pulled a tiny scroll from her belt pouch, and unrolled it. Facing the distant threat, she kneeled and began reciting_ A Prayer for Kossuth's Forgiveness._

"What's going on?" Tie asked, she'd never felt so in the dark.

"Forgive me, _Kalach-Cha..._ Tee-nah," she said; She was still having trouble with names. "What we face is a form of geas first used by the _Illithids. _ On this plane, it is called an _animus elemental. _Are you familiar with it?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"That's a being constructed of one's own life force, right?" she answered, having heard something about it when she was a child.

"That is correct," the Gith replied. "Someone has cast this abomination on that child, no doubt out of spite. They are seldom beneficial and the ones least able to deal with this evil make it most powerful-Their weakness and inability to cope feed it. The more one fights, the stronger it becomes."

"Any idea who could summon that thing?" Tie asked. "They'd be powerful magicians, I suppose."

"That, I do not know. It has an arcane component that involves contact with the subject." the Gith mused. "It is surely someone she knows. We first encountered it in Neverwinter, where the druidess, El-anee," she smiled self-consciously, "dispelled it. That, sadly, just sends it away, and it always comes back. The sorceress must use her will and faith in her deity to dispel the evil that animates the construct. Its destruction may harm her, we need to be ready to assist in that event."

* * *

Qara was half the distance between her companions and her nemesis. She carried a stave that Khelgar crafted and, in a rare moment of dwarven humor, named _Qarastaff_. The sorceress hated it... then, but now, she carried it with pride, after enchanting it to fit her nature. Flames burned at both ends, but did not consume it. The distance between the two closed rapidly as she marched forward. The avatar of her self-inflicted pain stayed in place on the wagon track; It waited.

"Errm, excuse me." It was Khralver, who'd crept up behind the two. His eyes widened as he exclaimed, "What in the hells... oh, I beg pardon. What is that, _thing_?"

Zhjaeve eyed him coldly. "Perhaps _you _could tell _us,_ emissary. I believe that_ your_ mistress is involved in this." Her colorless eyes gauged his reaction. "Please return to your safe post in the rear. Our situation here gives your life _some_ value." she said, dismissing him.

"She's almost there," Tie unslung her bow and had it tensioned with a few practiced movements. "She'll need back-up." The Gith's gentle hand on her shoulder made her pause, her arrow not quite set.

"As difficult as it is to watch," Zhjaeve never took her eyes from Qara's march, "this gifted young one must face her challenge alone. Our efforts to help will only harm. I will prevent her death, but that will delay her ascension."

The sorceress faced herself. The image was like that seen in a poorly plated looking glass-Somehow distorted-Not quite there. It was indeed her image, the only difference was the elemental's orbs. They were stoked by the hells' very fires. Taking a deep breath, she started the ritual.

"What in the hells is she..." the Knight-Captain pulled her bow back fully, only to relax it-That same gentle touch was again restraining her.

A short distance away, Qara kneeled and lay her flaming staff at the feet of her elemental mirror-image. Bowing her head, she waited. Bits and pieces of her voice chanting a ritual drifted back to the two watching anxiously.

The _animus elemental_ began to stretch, its face a study in agony. It quickly lost its human form, it now resembled the diseased cloud of spent magic that it was. It winked out with a clap of thunder, leaving a retching Qara on her hands and knees.

The Gith studied Tie's face and said, "It is done... please, stay here and be prepared, there may be... some side affects. We will return shortly." She went up the path with a purposeful stride.

* * *

When the two returned, Qara looked tired, but relieved. The _Ritual of Forgiving _that she performed released the pent-up anger and fear that she struggled with daily, breaking the bond between her and the evil construct. She had yet to emerge from under the dark cloud of hate that summoned the elemental to dog her footsteps-She had no idea who did it or why.

"You had me worried," the moon elf said, relieved. "I though you were letting it... finish you. That you were giving up. How do you feel?"

"I'm fine... could be better," she said with a tentative smile.

Tie noticed the flames normally on her staff were not there. Maybe the elemental had done her more harm than they could see.

Before the Knight-Captain could ask her about the staff, the sorceress smiled at Zhjaeve and said, "I've learned a new spell-Watch this." With a flourish, she held her staff even with the ground, her hands together around the center. She slowly slid her hands apart. When they were shoulder's width apart, she closed her eyes and snapped her hands back together, causing an orange ball of flame to appear at each end. "Now-Watch this," she said in a gleeful voice. As she slowly spread her hands apart, the flames went out.

"That's good control, and it's fast enough to be useful in combat, as well," Tie marveled.

Qara couldn't resist showing off- She spun the staff around twice, stopping it behind her left shoulder, then twice again, stopping it behind the right. When she stopped its final spin in front, it was aflame at each end. Snuffing out the ends, she bowed theatrically and said, "That's all."

"Her power is most impressive," the Gith was proud of her progress. "It is sure to grow stronger with time."

Tiernah smiled in spite of her misgivings. "Ambassador Natale awaits." Her smile broadened at Qara's grimace. "We can camp here if you need rest," she said, sure the sorceress would be impatient to move on.

"We can rest if _you're _tired," she shot right back. "Me? I'm _ready. _Let's go."

* * *

The sun was just three short-hands above the horizon when Sydney Natale's emissary called a halt. "This should be the place," he concluded, looking carefully at several prominent landmarks. "Mistress Natale will be joining us shortly."

The trail they'd followed on the last leg of the journey ended in what looked like a box-canyon. The clearing was walled in by steep hills on three of its sides. This trail was the only way out. Qara was restless, she didn't like it here, an inner sense of arcane presence had its wind up. "Something isn't right here..." she mumbled.

"Khralver, leave us," Sydney Natale's whiskey-roughened voice dripped with her displeasure. We will speak more later concerning the... timeliness of your arrival." She dismissed him with a wave.

"Y-yes Mistress," he wasted no time in leaving.

Ambassador Natale, of the City of Luskan, didn't care much for appearances, it showed in the drab colorless robes she wore. "Thank you for agreeing to meet with me... _captain_... and you've brought the _Gith_, I see," she said. Her eyes widened as she looked over the moon elf's shoulder. "Ahh... _Qara, _your father is a mage of the Academy, _is he not?_"

The sorceress bristled at her tone. "Yes, he is. But we're not that much alike." Her eyes locked with Sydney's, daring her to look away first.

Declining her challenge, the ambassador shifted her gaze back to the Knight-Captain. "I am sorry I had to send Khralver to fetch you. I would have come to Crossroad Keep myself, but too many eyes follow my movements."

Tiernah glanced at the Gith, who was standing beside her. Zhjaeve appeared to be listening attentively, her face was a mask. Qara was standing close behind, Tie could not see her. Hoping the sorceress was in control of her apparent anger, she asked, "Why did you come to me instead of _My Lord Nasher_?

She sighed , as if tolerating a dull-witted child. "A visit to Nasher's court would have drawn too much attention. I came to you because you and your companions seem to be at the forefront of the war with the _King of Shadows._ As such, there is no need for intermediaries and unfortunately, that is what _Nasher _has become. I _prefer_ to speak to those who _act_, not _delegate._

The moon elf had crossed her arms while listening to this. "How can you, and indirectly, Luskan, help Neverwinter in the war with the _King of Shadows_?" she asked. The ambassador's motivation wasn't clear.

The ambassador would not meet her eyes. "You know of true names?" she asked. After seeing Tie nod, she continued, "I have brought a scroll containing the true names of each of the _Shadow Reavers. The Hosttower of the Arcane _keeps a record of the true names of all its members, to use against them if they ever violate their contracts." She held up a hand to silence any questions and continued, "When used against Black Garius, the true names did not appear to work, he slew those sent against him."

In the pause, Tie asked, "If they're useless, why give them to us?"

"Ahh, very good question," her smile didn't quite touch her eyes. " The Hosttower assumed they were useless, but I suspected otherwise. So I performed a divination on the scroll, and the names revealed a link." Her frown was now real. "Unfortunately, I don't have the lore to decipher the results." Unrolling the parchment, she walked up to where Zhjaeve was standing, scratching the Gith's arm with a careless gesture. "_You,_ examine _this_. What do you _see_? _Well_?"

The Gith, ignoring such a glaring lack of diplomacy, replied, "I _can _read these... and I believe they can be of use to us. Knowing the name of a being gives one great power over it... and these names could weaken the reavers enough to allow us to kill them."

Sydney walked back to the end of the path where her group of low-life muscle had appeared. "Then you are of use to me," she said, pointing to the Knight-Captain, "_You_, however, are _not._ I have no need of you, and have no care whether you live or die. You brought these two to me, that's all I wanted of you."

Qara stepped up beside her two companions, her patience had run out. "I say, let's just burn this Hosttower _witch_ and take the names from her smoking corpse," she snarled.

"Oh, _dear girl_," Sydney was addressing a cranky child. "If the circumstances were different, you would be my most treasured of gems. But the _Magister _of the Academy in Neverwinter has offered me so much more in exchange for your _head. _You are a very _bad_ girl indeed; You've offended a powerful man. No doubt you've met his _gift _I summoned especially for you."

Qara brandished her staff, the flames of anger had yet to appear at its ends. "You want my head, _witch_? You come on and _get_ it." she challenged.

"_Such bravado, _my _dear. _I regret that I'll miss the chance to _break_ you, then rebuild you into the formidable entity you _could _be-Under _my _thumb, of course. Now, I won't bother with you myself, It's not worth soiling my hands with your blood. I'll let my servant deal with you... _permanently."_

_ "_Oh, I see now, _coward,_" Qara taunted, spoiling for a fight. "That's why you _prefer _to speak to _someone of action_?" Flames now danced the entire length of her staff.

"_Enough, _the _animus elemental _wasn't much of a challenge, was it?" the ambassador's voice had taken on a hard edge. Touching the fingernail she'd scratched Zhjaeve with into the welling blood on her own forearm, Sydney Natale summoned a variant of Qara's evil mirror image. "This _planar elemental _will enslave all of you," she hissed. With that, she gated out to let them face this new horror.

The Githzerai cleric turned to Tiernah. Slipping a green crystal on a fine silver chain from her neck, she laid it in the moon elf's open palm, and said, "Time is short-Listen carefully. The unkempt one has foolishly released a power she knows little about. If I fail to put it down, the bottle that I enclose it with will confine it as long as the weave exists. My vow, spoken to you at Crossroad Keep, still stands. _Know_ that I will be with you, if only in spirit, until we reach the end of our chosen path. If you have need of my _council_, or my _knowing,_ simply hold that stone and call my name. Though my physical self passes on, my essence will always return home to what you call _Limbo._" She had nothing more to say.

"You'll defeat it. I _know _you will." Qara's voice was resolute-Her face was not. "You'll... be here."

"_Zerthimon's _will be done," she said, placing a hand on the sorceress' cheek. "_Know_ that you have done well, my child. Remember-_Focus... purpose... will._" Smiling at them both, she turned to face the threat to her continued existence on this, the material plane.

* * *

The Gith cleric and the _planar elemental _were encased in a shimmering dome of energy, summoned by Zhjaeve's final incantation. Occasional flashes of light illuminated it from within. After several dull thuds, the globe faded from view.

As if on cue, Luskan's hygenically challenged ambassador gated back in. "I... had not thought it possible. You have defeated it, destroyed it utterly." she said. After taking a look around, she asked, "The _Gith... _where is _she_?" Zhjaeve's absence appeared to upset her more than the defeat of her summon.

Taking advantage of Sydney's ignorance, Qara replied calmly, "You killed her, you Luskanite Hostttower wannabe wizard bitch. Now your true names are useless."

Tiernah was impressed, the sorceress' taunt appeared to be working.

"I _will _get something from this," Natale's fury was barely under control. "Your head... _take them_. If firehair's head is damaged, you'll answer to me," she said, leaving them to their work.

Five thugs advanced up the trail, their blades flashing. Tie raised her bow, ready to let the first missile fly. A hand on her shoulder was followed by a request; "Don't waste an arrow. May I?" Qara asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Certainly, be my guest," the moon elf answered with mock formality. Sure that this would be some show, she stepped back and lowered her weapon.

The sorceress stepped up, and without hesitation, paddled off five small fireballs from her staff that incinerated the Luskans where they stood-They never had a chance.

"I'll have to do this myself," Sydney had returned, her rage was fueling her magic now. "You're miserable life is over," she screeched, raising her arms to cast a spell. She grunted as two of the moon elf's arrows entered her chest in quick succession, collapsing her lungs, rupturing her heart. Before she could fall, her presence faded.

"Hells' fires," Qara cursed. "She escaped-damn, damn, and damn."

"_Know_ that she did not," said a voice they both knew well. "The spell will fade with her passing."

"Welcome back, _Lady of the Planes_," Tie said, with a relieved smile.

"Zhjaeve..." Qara's child-like exclamation lifted the Gith's heart.

A/N Thanks to my beta-reader _Wyl_ for slowing my headlong rushing pace. Next chapter-Qara does M... I promise!


	19. Neutral Ground II

When queried about her victory over the _planar elemental,_ all the Gith would say was that, being a construct of the shadow weave, a weave based _Spell of Unmaking_ was called forth to discorporate it. Once she defeated her adversary, she dismantled the containment globe and returned to this plane.

During their exchange, neither Tie, nor the Gith noticed when the sorceress's eyes rolled up in her head and she sank to the ground.

Tie was kneeling over her, a healing potion with Sand's trademark ring around the bottle's neck was in her hand. Though she hated the taste of the stuff, Qara needed a boost; She drank.

"This scroll is indeed a boon," the Gith said as she unrolled the prize taken from Luskan's ambassador. "My intuition tells me all the names are here, but I am not certain. We have no way of knowing."

"Is that a wisp of doubt I hear," the Knight-Captain asked, unable to resist the rare chance to shake Zhjaeve's reserve.

"Why... no," the Gith replied, looking quizzically at her. "I was merely stating a fact. Know that these _True Names_ may be the S_hadow Reavers' _undoing, but if even _one _is missing, that is one that will be_ impossible_ to defeat. We _must_ prepare for that possibility."

"Well, we're one step closer," Tie said, rubbing the exhausted sorceress on the back. "Thanks to _Kossuth's _gift to us, here, we'll be just that much stronger. Can you stand?" she asked.

Qara looked up and tried to smile; She wasn't quite used to the attention. "Let me rest here a minute, give that potion a chance to work. I need to think," she said, running her fingers through an unruly shock of red hair.

Sydney Natale's revelation didn't come as a surprise to her. Magister Johcris was responsible for the _animus elemental's _summoning. His daughter, Glina, was expelled from the Academy after a bar fight with Qara had boiled over into the street. It seemed that only the spilling of blood would satisfy his _honor_. Qara didn't understand-Was a silly street fight worth a death sentence?

* * *

About a ten-day after her release from imprisonment at Crossroad Keep by Black Garius, the Gith cleric, Zhjaeve, sat beside her at a corner table in the Flagon's common room, unbidden. Qara's resentment at the Zerth's intrusion melted away as they talked quietly. Her issue with the world-at-large was trust. No one had ever been there for her. Zhjaeve's question; _When have you been there for someone else? _gave the sorceress pause-She had no answer.

"My dear, know that trust is a... mutual respect and faith that one holds for another," the Gith knew she had a wall to break down in this confused young woman. "To start, you must show that you are worthy of another's trust."

"And just how would I do that?" she asked, showing the face of a very unhappy child.

"First, you show through, not just your words, but in your deeds, a tolerance, even sympathy towards the weakness of others," she answered. "Then apply your strengths to aid them in their time of need."

"Oh, sure," she sneered. "and the more you kiss someone's butt, the more they take advantage of you." her answer was filled with a young lifetime of pain and disappointment. Qara had yet to shoulder the responsibility for any of it, though deep down, she knew most of her troubles were of her own making.

The Gith was thoughtful. "That is certainly a colorful phrase. If your reference is being taken advantage of, a worthy person will not take from you without giving in return." She thought for a bit before asking, "Isn't someone who takes without giving _unworthy_ of your trust?"

"Your damned right they aren't," Qara agreed. "How do you know who you can trust?" she asked shyly-She really didn't know.

"First, you seek out someone who is worth trusting-Someone who really cares about themselves as well as others. Then develop _their_ trust in you over time into something that is strong, something _they_ can depend upon. You do that by being there when they need you."

"What about me?" she asked, now confused.

"Understand that the other person must, in turn, earn _your _trust. By them being there for you when you need them, your trust in them is strengthened." The Gith noticed a subtle change in her facial expression-That stubborn look of a closed mind had been replaced by one of thoughtful introspection. It was time to take a chance on breaking through. "May I make an observation," Zhjaeve gently asked.

"Sure, go ahead," Qara replied. She was resigned to enduring another boring lecture about her faults.

Knowing she was taking a chance, the Gith forged ahead; "From what I have seen, you _want _to be alone," she said with a disarming smile. "Others are not allowed near, neither physically nor emotionally. Those that try are rebuked." After seeing that thoughtful look return, she continued, "from what you've told me, trust is the issue, is that not true?"

"It's true," she said with a sigh. She had to admit, being alone wasn't any fun, but it was easier for her to handle. There were fewer disappointments and a hell of a lot fewer unpleasant surprises.

Zhjaeve's smile was sympathetic as she took both hands in hers and squeezed. "A suggestion, if I may... If a situation appears to be... untoward, take a moment to be sure that things are really as they seem; Know that misunderstandings start wars," she said, looking into the girl's eyes for understanding. "Can you consider what we have spoken about?" she asked.

"I suppose so," Qara said, there was a lot for her to think about.

"One final thought," the Gith concluded; "An old Githzerai saying comes to mind, _There is strength in unity._ None of us can stand alone for long. A wall is not one stone block, but many stone blocks together form a formidable barrier." With that, she finally got Qara to see she needed others and others needed her-No one could stand alone. Her brush with Ammon Jerro much later drove the point home-Without Elanee and Grobnar, there would now be no Qara.

The strange green-skinned woman from another plane of existence believed in Qara, believed in her power, but it was a power without_ focus_, a power without _purpose. _With the Gith's influence, the war with the _King of Shadows _was now her _focus. _Her personal vendetta with Ammon Jerro was on hold, for now, they were on the same side. Trust? ...Qara knew she'd have to work on that.

* * *

A feral smile formed on Qara's features. Johcris's undoing was at hand. "Would it be alright if I did a... little _backslide_... just this once?" she asked, looking back and forth between the Knight-Captain and the Gith cleric. She whispered her plan in Tie's ear, occasionally gesturing at the Hosttower mage's corpse and Tie's harvester.

At the Knight-Captain's insistence, they buried the bodies and removed most of the evidence of battle. The only trace of their presence was a scorch mark that would take some time to heal.

* * *

The _Cloaktower-Lieutenant_ was once again in Neverwinter. The common room at the Sunken Flagon, once their base of operations, now seemed smaller somehow-A home she was reluctant to visit. She had moved on now. _A last look, for old times' sake, _she thought as she'd pushed through the front door.

A shadow fell across the table, someone had blocked the dusty mote of morning sunshine. "May I... join you?" her visitor asked.

Neeshka looked up. Upon seeing the red-haired sorceress, she pulled out a chair. "Sure, have a seat," she invited. "Tie tells me you wasted that Luskan witch at her own meeting."

"I played a very small part," she said with a dismissive gesture. "We all had a hand in settling that harpy's hash." She sighed. "I'll get to the point-I need your help."

Her request was an unexpected surprise. In Neeshka's experience, Qara had never asked anyone for help-Never. "Sure thing," the rogue answered immediately. "As long as we don't kill anyone-I'm _supposed_ to be _respectable_ now," she said, pulling a face.

The red-haired sorceress went on to explain how an instructor at the Academy here in Neverwinter, had mounted an assault on her virtue. His longing gazes at her had gradually progressed to the point that she feared being alone in his presence. After nearly a ten-day with no response from her, he moved on to easier prey. Qara's fight with his daughter had piled more fuel on the fire of his hatred. She went on to outline her plan to put the fear of the hells into the bastard.

"I like it," Neeshka enthused. "But let's take it a step farther. Are you a virgin?"

"No. I'm no sporting woman, but I've been around the block a time or two," she said, smiling at the memories.

"So, why don't you _give _him what he wants?" she asked, the plan forming in her mind.

Duncan passed through the room, pausing to watch the red-haired brat and the devil-girl with their heads together, probably gossiping, by the sound of their laughter. He shook his head in dismissal and descended the cellar stairs. _Some of us have to work for a living, _he grumped. Shifting the stock around had to be done and no one would do it for him.

* * *

The night was half-way done. The shadows deepened as the moon dipped below the far treeline. Two black cloaked figures made their way past the Academy dormitory to a cluster of smaller dwellings reserved for instructors and administrators. They went without error to the door of the Magister's office.

The cloaked figure with red eyes carried a farmer's reaper and a tightly sealed bag that appeared to have some weight. "This is where he sleeps?" it whispered the question. "Doesn't he have a home?"

The green eyed figure shivered. The cloak she wore covered a thin silken nightgown-Scant protection from the chill. "He's lived here since his wife died, two, maybe three summers ago."

Red eyes passed the pole arm and the bag with its noisome cargo to her companion and knelt to work on the door's lock. "Huh," she scoffed. "Might as well leave it open." Opening the door, she slipped inside the office. "No one here, come on," she whispered.

Green eyes pointed to a door in the far corner. "The bedroom is upstairs. The door is to the right on the landing," she whispered.

The third stair step was loose, its groaning cry announced their presence. They waited for a long one hundred count, expecting a fight at any moment. When no one stirred, they continued.

On the landing, green eyes gasped, holding out a restraining hand. "That door's warded," she hissed, pointing to a rose colored rune painted on the polished surface. "Let me try..." she closed her eyes, a blue glow covered her hand, and she began gently wiping at the spot on the door.

The blue aura on her hand was snuffed out and she groaned aloud. Her companion managed to catch her before she hit the floor.

Inside the bedroom, their mark rolled over in his sleep, moaning as if from a bad dream.

While her friend sat on the floor, resting, red eyes took a quick look into the other room on this floor. It was filled with covered furniture and other assorted junk-There was no threat here.

The rune on the door was now gone-It was safe to proceed. The shadow with red eyes had the door open in a trice. Opening it, mindful of any noise it could make, she peered carefully inside.

Seeing their way was clear, the two shadows entered the room, lit a candle, and took their places.

* * *

He liked it when he was awakened like this. Who was with him this time? A student from the Academy making up poor grades, or a tavern fly from the poor side of Neverwinter making coin? Hells... no matter; This woman was good. She knew just what to do to please him. Her hips were talking to him, _This way to paradise._ In response to her ministrations, his hands caressed her flanks, her back, her breasts. He had yet to take her-His lust, though growing had yet to reach its peak. He had plenty of time, and was in no hurry. "You smell so damned good," he moaned, taking in her musky scent with a shuddering deep breath.

"I'm glad you like me," his lover purred. Her hips continued their slow rhythm. "It will get better-I promise."

There was something familiar... her voice. He'd heard it before. Intrigued, he opened his eyes.

A pair of heavy-lidded emerald green eyes framed by a sheaf of lush red hair regarded him from above. Pale skin that almost spoke aloud of its velvet softness begged to be touched-explored. A delicately traced tattoo extended from hairline to eyebrow, hinting at the intellect within. "You're awake," Qara's voice poured like honey. "Now the _real _fun starts."

His desire was snuffed out like a candle. His manhood wilted. "You... you're _dead_," he choked out. "...back to the hells where you belong." His shock was being slowly replaced with fear.

She lowered her shoulders, brushing his bare chest with her breasts. "Does this feel like... I'm... _dead_? Don't you still want me?" she asked, her face was now very close to his. "I'm not at the Academy any more... I can be yours for eternity," she brushed his forehead with her lips.

"Begone... spawn of demons... your soul is damned... I am not your chattel," he stammered, his face was working, his throat closed. He could say no more.

Disappointed, her face fell. "Well, if you don't _want _me," she lamented with an exaggerated pout, "I'll go." She slowly dismounted and strolled to his bedroom door. She turned back to him, rubbing herself against the open door. "My bed's in _Grenpoli,_ that's in _Maladomini." _The liquid words rolled off her tongue. "When you get there, look me up. I'll be waiting," she said with a salacious wink. "It won't be long... Ta, love." she kissed a finger, and extended it in his direction. The door clicked shut-The sound was thunderous to his overstimulated ears.

His heart was slowing from its all-out gallop when a shadow detached itself from the wall. Tendrils of blue-white fire danced around the scythe's blade held in the thing's right hand. Red eyes beneath a midnight-black hood bored into his. The stench of death followed this dark one-It now filled the candle-lit room.

The shadow moved to the bed, the butt of its pole-arm thumping on the floor with each unhurried step. It stood beside his bed, watching him, not uttering a word.

"Y-you... who are you?" he managed to say. "What is it you want?"

Was that a sigh, or a long exhalation? After looking at the recently closed door, the apparition raised its left hand, something was clutched in that left hand. What gift this apparition placed on the bed between his upraised knees took a moment for him to recognize; It was a severed human head with eyes that looked up at him with damning accusation. "Oh Gods... Sydney Natale," Magister Johcris gasped. His weary heart gave up its fight.

The tiefling rogue and the human sorceress were sleeping soundly in their room at the Flagon and did not hear Glina screaming when she found her father.

A/N Thanks _Wyl_, you're right-_Pace...focus! _C.


	20. The Waif's Home Revisited

Doc was still with the matron in her office when Rolan led Mister Gray and his band into the common room of Port Llast's orphanage. They were here to collect Marlah Kimber's problem child, Daniel. Today, his journey from street thug to sailor for the crown would begin under the watchful eyes of the _Eagle's _officers.

The ship's elven lead carpenter, scanned the _waif's home _with a practiced eye. His moniker, Nails_,_ was given to him by shipmates who learned of his preference for joinery over fasteners in his work. The beauty of the _Double Eagle _and the economy of her fittings was a testimony to his fussiness.

Rebuilding the broken furniture here would be child's play. He would enjoy flexing his skilled muscles on the real work that needed his attention. Re-hanging broken doors and re-glazing missing windows would take time to do right, but it would be time well spent. He even had some new ideas about stowage-In his world, space was at a premium. Shipboard carpentry was all about using limited space wisely. When Mister Gray took the lad in hand, he could begin working.

Rolan and the _Eagle's Master-at-Arms _stood before the barred door that held Daniel captive. "He in there?" the grey-orc asked, anticipating the challenge that lay in wait. Upon seeing Rolan's nod, he lifted the bar and set it carefully aside. Two of his layabouts with truncheons stepped up behind him. "Hold here," he rumbled. "I need ya... I'll call." He slowly opened the door and stepped quickly inside.

* * *

"So, how goes it?" Doc, having finished with patching up the matron, had re-joined the _Eagle's _unofficial press gang_._

"Mister Gray wants to deal with him one-on-one," Rolan replied. "He won't have to hurt him, will he?" He didn't want Daniel's blood on his hands.

"Not to worry," the dark elf was confident. "Gray is _very_ good with the lads. There's not a one who bears him ill will." Nods of assent and murmured _ayes _went around the small group at this.

"How does he keep them in line, then?" Rolan asked, mystified.

She smiled at the chance to tell; "Most disciplinarians prefer to knock heads and twist an arm or two in the process-Gray likes to twist minds-Then the bodies follow right along behind. He says it's less work," she said, her smile was one of affection. "The captain says he's worth his weight in truncheons and leg-irons. This lot would sail to the very hells and back for him." Again, there were _ayes _all around. "While Gray works his _magic,_ let's take a look at the_ Ilythiiri _young ones, Rolan, where are they?" the ship's surgeon asked, with a look around. They were her real interest here.

"The last time I was here, they were in the cellar," he led her to the door and removed its bar. "There are two pair of twins and a single. The twins are very young, less than ten seasons. The single is near her majority."

"Dark elf twins?" Doc mused. "They are extremely rare. Some believe they are a sign of favor among the drow deities."

"I've met them," he answered. "Khama and Kharmah are identical female drow twins, while Cale and Heile are boy-girl fraternal half-drow twins. Cluvista is a full-blooded dark elf near her majority. She is afraid we're going to send her back to the Underdark."

"I can take care of that," Doc assured him. "I must ask, though, please do not remind us of our brand of hell. The _descent _is a history_ not_ of our choosing_._"

"Understood," he said. "Please accept my apology, then."

"Thank you, Rolan," she was grateful. "Now, please attend me while I meet the little ones below. If I call, come down and try not to let a lot of light in when you open the door." She then briefed him on his part in the _Ritual of Light._ He was to open the cellar door to allow more and more light below as the ritual progressed. When concluded, their eyes would be adjusted to the light and their journey at an end. With Rolan briefed, she slipped through the door and descended the stairs.

* * *

The _Eagle's _surgeon sat on the bottom step in the cellar, allowing quiet to settle once more. She hadn't failed to notice the rustling sound here below when the light invaded from her entrance. There was also a muted sound of wood scraping on stone, then... silence.

It was easy for her to see where the children went, even in the near-total darkness. Her eyes were drawn to the marks on the floor where a shelf filled with bottles and jars of food met with that floor-It had been moved out and pushed back into place recently.

"You can come out now, your journey is near its end," she pitched her voice barely above a whisper that they were sure to hear.

"Has it, or is this where we are turned back?" a dark elf maiden, seated on the floor a few paces from the stairs asked in a chilled tone she hadn't heard in years. Only the _Ilythiiri_ could manage that aloof, detached air.

Doc smiled at the memory this brave child called up. Not more than twenty seasons ago, she had undergone the _Ritual of Light_ that had accustomed her eyes to the glare here on the surface. Back then, the _Temple of Eilistraee _was a back room in a weaponsmith's shop in Waterdeep. Keeping ahead of drow assassins fostered a tradition of secrecy among _The Silver Lady's _faithful. Now each priestess carried her vestments in a shoulder bag-Any room could now serve as a temple.

"There is but one final step, sister," she said, getting to her feet. "Your journey will end with the _Ritual of Light. _First, allow me to introduce myself, I am Caeryth_,_ ship's surgeon of _His Majesty Lord Nasher Alagondar's_ _Double Eagle _and third-level _Priestess of Our Lady Eilistraee,_ at your service." she bowed formally.

"I... am Cluvista_,_ of the house _hue D'nai _that is no more," she returned with a steady voice, bolstered by will alone. Her bow, in return was just as grave.

She once more, sat on a bottom step, patting a place next to her. "Then, hopefully, we are well met. Sit, so we can talk, you and I, and please, call me Doc," she invited.

* * *

The grey-orc sat on a bunk opposite his charge. The lad was brighter than most, in his estimation, making this job that much easier. "So, the choice is yours; you can come with us, be one of us, or we will_ take _you... either way, you _will _wake up tomorrow morning aboard ship. Will it be in the brig as a slave, or in the berthing space as a sailor?" he asked, re-rolling the boy's _Article of Indenture _and tucking it into a pocket of his tunic. The furrow in his brow deepened.

Daniel was in a corner. Evidently that soft-hearted, soft-headed matron had gotten enough backbone to draw up a _writ_ on him. His fight with her had been about this room. She said she needed it for those misbegotten drow pigs that had just shown up out of nowhere. It didn't matter that his work brought in most of the money these swine sucked up every day. Bunk with the brats? Uh uh-That'll never happen. "Alright, since I've got no _real _choice here, let me pack up a few things," he grumped, stood, and picked up a ragged rucksack, stuffing items plucked from the litter strewn about the room.

"One more thing to do before we leave," Mister Gray turned back from the door. "Listen..."

* * *

When the door opened and Daniel stepped out, the two layabouts, who were lounging near a window watching the women passing by, straightened and took up positions on each side of the bewildered boy. He was not considered small, but had to look up at them to meet their eyes. They took their time sizing him up.

"Well, young man, I guess this is good-bye," the matron said, mustering as much dignity as she could. "We've... done as much as we could for you. Do not forget where you've come from." There was more relief than anger in her words.

The boy considered this, then feeling a large gray hand on his shoulder, said, "I'm... sorry for my lack of respect for myself and you... and regret harming you." He couldn't meet her steady gaze.

"Fine _words_, lad," she said, her chin was up. "Show us... show these _men _here that you really _mean_ it. Make us proud of you."

"With your leave, Mistress," the _Master at Arms _rumbled. Seeing her nod, he raised his voice, looking around; "_Nails,_ it's all secure-The hull is yours. I'll send these two back after we deliver Dan, here, to the Captain." With that, the _Eagle's _newest sailor, with a shortened name was escorted to his new home.

* * *

"It is hard to imagine you're from _The City of Spiders._" Doc was from _Menzoberranzan_ herself, and knew of the great distance as well as the danger of getting from there to the city of _Waterdeep._ Less than two-in-ten escaped to the light of day. Clu and her charges were very fortunate to find their way to _The Undermountain_, the mad wizard Halaster's domain, where an ancient machine bore them to the surface into the arms of _Eilistraee's _faithful. "If you don't mind me asking, how did you escape?"

Clu seemed a bit reluctant; "House _D'nai _was a peaceful farming group that was allied with the eighth house when I was born. A clash with the first house crushed... the eighth house and all its allied enclaves... a brother and I managed to escape to the _Braeryn._ That's where the outlaws and the sick are banished. He... was killed by a drunken hunting party that swept the area not long after we were taken in... by a human who turned out to be a harper agent_._ For some reason they were involved with the house wars and revolts that raged for generations there." She looked sadly across the room at the shelf of bottles and jars. "Heile and Cale are that valiant harper's young ones. When a revolt at the first house threatened the whole city, he and his wife took us to the portal to the _Undermountain_, and defended it with their lives... so we could escape. They did not follow us through, so we assumed the worst..." She seemed to have run out of words.

The _Ilythiiri _maiden's news saddened her, but it was not unexpected. House wars, a bane of drow existence for generations, were a fact of life, and death. The eighth house, the house of _Do'urdan, _along with its retainer, the house _hue D'nai,_ were no more-Doc and Clu were the lone survivors of their respective enclaves. "You and your little ones are very brave indeed," she said, placing an arm tenderly around Clu's shoulder. "You honor your houses with your survival. I would very much like to meet them, if I may."

The girl walked to the far wall and pulled a pin from the bottom shelf. Sliding the shelf away from the wall, she ducked into the void behind it. She reappeared carrying an ornately carved shoulder bag of what looked to be black dragon hide. Dark elves wielding farm implements adorned its sides.

With little fanfare, she introduced each young one as they emerged and were seated on the floor at Doc's feet. Their courtly bow before sitting enchanted her. "They... they're beautiful," she couldn't help but marvel. In spite of their confinement, their grooming was immaculate-They appeared to be well fed. _Now, I wonder if they're still tactile, _she thought. They were at the age where the need to touch and be touched was ruthlessly trained out of them.

They watched her with a healthy curiosity and a calm lack of fear. "_Cale... _please... _come,_" Doc invited, holding out her arms. This was a test they wouldn't recognize; In drow society, choosing a male first in any social setting was considered an insult to any waiting female. His sisters' affectionate touches and unspoken encouragement as he stood up removed all of the surgeon's reservations. Their ascent to the light would be as easy as walking up the stairs.

Without hesitation, he placed his hands in hers. When she squeezed, he squeezed right back, an impish smile lit his not-quite-human yet not-quite-drow face. _You little devil, _she couldn't help thinking,_ you'll be a real heart-breaker in just a few short years. _After seating him on the second step behind her, she called to his sister, Heile_._

"You can call her Hye_, _we all do," her twin brother piped up from his seat on the steps. Without waiting, she crawled up into Doc's lap and threw an arm companionably around her neck. From this perch, she was the queen of all she surveyed.

"Can we stay?" her serious look and simple question expressed their heart's hope.

"Do you_ really, really _want to?" Doc asked, looking sideways at her. "You have to be worthy. It won't be easy."

Heile's solemn, wide eyed nod sealed the deal.

She kissed the half-drow girl's forehead. "Alright, you_ all _can stay," she pronounced, seating her beside Cale on the stair-step.

_Now for the gems, _Doc thought. She had to contain her excitement-Were these two blood relatives? She had to be sure. "_Kharmah... Khama_," she said, once again, her arms were outstretched.

They were identical-To the casual observer. Khama's ear notches, cut just above each lower lobe, marked her as the second born-Birth order was important in their matriarchal society. Drow nobility were noted for finer features; Ear points just a bit sharper-The entire ear a bit smaller; Eyes of almond shape, less rounded than most elves. The two middle fingers of the same length on each hand marked the higher class. And the most obvious feature was house tattoos-Doc unbuttoned the top button on Kharmah's tunic...

She smiled in relief. "They are my own flesh and blood," sighing, she embraced them both. Looking up at Clu, she asked, "They have their birth markings... but where are the house marks?" For the first time in many years, Doc opened her top button to show the silver tattoo that identified her as a member of house _Do'urdan._

_"My Lady,_" Clu was shocked. "They were hostages to fealty to the first house... Their survival was _not _intended. During the revolt, the harper... brought them to his home," she said, her forehead was on the floor.

She helped the distraught girl to her feet. Holding Clu's face between her hands, she said, "They are alive, to my joy." She looked intently into the girl's eyes. "And I have you to thank. _Eilistraee's blessings,_ you have earned a place in the sun. Come, we will begin the _Ritual of Light._

* * *

Rolan was seated on a borrowed chair close to the cellar entry door. Things had settled into their normal routine soon after Daniel's departure. The ship's carpenter, with the help of two sturdy boys, was carting out litter to make way for them to work.

The matron was overseeing Elspeth and her sister as they readied Daniel's recently vacated room for its new tenants. There were bunks to be made and a chest-of-drawers to be cleaned out. Until the dark elves could tolerate the light completely, this dark room would be their home.

He heard the voices from below-_The_ _Ritual of Light _had started;

_A rightful place awaits you in the Realm Above, in the land of the Great Light. Come in peace and live beneath the sun again, where trees and flowers grow._

As instructed, Rolan unlatched the door and opened it a finger's width-Very little light would be admitted. The first passage; _On Promoting Joy _drifted up from below;

_Encourage happiness everywhere; Lift hearts with kind words, jests, songs and merriment. Whenever possible, food should be eaten with accompaniment of song. Except for properly sad occasions, a feast should be accompanied by merriment. Promote happiness and gaiety whenever possible._

The door above opened to a half-hand, easing the gloom somewhat. Doc started the passage; _On_ _Self-Improvement;_

_Learn how to cook game and how best to hunt it. Learn how to play, make, and repair musical instruments. Learn new songs, dances,and ways with weapons, spices, and recipes, and pass this learning on, wherever possible. Practice music and swordwork._

When opened a full hand, the door admitted just a little more light. There was really very little difference, but the little ones could tell, they recited the passage; _On Possessions-_They knew it by heart;

_Wealth is to be used to buy food, musical instruments, good swords and armor, and other tools to serve the will of the goddess. When on the road feed, aid, and defend the needy along the way with a prayer to the goddess. Lend assistance to those who fight for good, asking as price no more than an object that can be used to the benefit of the goddess' works._

Rolan knew the next passage. Lil had shown him a chapter about the teachings of _The Silver Lady_ in one of her history books. That chapter had refreshed what he was taught in primary school. When the initiates felt the light increase, they recited _Eilistraee's_ words; _On Food;_

_Where food cannot be purchased or received, it must be gathered or hunted for. Feed yourself by your own gardening and hunting skills as much as possible. Set aside food and give it as often as possible to strangers in need, particularly outcasts and those of other races. In times of plenty, store food for lean times ahead._

Some of these teachings were from a book Rolan read in primary school-It was _The Olde Farmer's Almanack. _To show Doc he was right there with them, he opened the door a bit further to start the next passage that dealt with strangers;

_Strangers are your friends. Any hungry travelers met with, who offer no threats, are to be fed—Carry food at all times for this purpose. The homeless must be given shelter from storms, under your own roof if need be. In harsh winters, patrol the lands about to find and take in the lost, the hurt, and those caught in the teeth of cold. Try to convert at least one stranger per moon to the worship of Eilistraee._

This next passage; _On Conflict_, Rolan had had the hardest time memorizing in primary school. To this day the words danced just outside his recall;

_Defend and aid all folk, promoting harmony between the races. When fighting evil, __burn the bodies of evil creatures slain as an offering to the goddess—Unless such creatures are edible and non-sentient, and there are hungry folk near. When faithful and allies fall in battle, any priestess present must, if possible, provide burial, a funeral song, and comfort to the bereaved. Repay rudeness with kindness. Repay violence with swift violence, so that the fewest may be hurt and danger fast removed from the land._

The door was open almost all the way now. Rolan looked down to see the group seated around Doc, who was on the bottom step. Their attention was on the book that the _Eagle's_ surgeon held open. The final passage; _On Drow_, was recited by Clu. As if entreating all surface dwellers, she looked up at Rolan and the little girl standing near him and said:

_Aid all drow who are in distress. If the drow are in combat the fighting is to be stopped with as little bloodshed as possible. So long as the drow met with are not working evil on others, they are to be aided and given the message of Eilistraee:_

They all recited the message-Rolan heard it clearly. The ritual would close as it started;

_A rightful place awaits you in the Realm Above, in the land of the Great Light. Come in peace and live beneath the sun again, where trees and flowers grow._

Doc's final recital was loud and clear; _Aid the weak, strong, grateful, and churlish alike. Be always kind, save in battle with evil. _With that said, she stood and said, "Come my children, the light awaits."

Rolan had to smile when the child standing next to him ran down the hall, calling, "They're coming up... everybody..._ they're coming up._"

* * *

A/N Thanks to Shir'le E. Ilios-High priestess of Eilistraee's web page _The Chosen of Eilistraee _for Eilistraee's Dogma. C.

I'll say it again-Thanks _Wyl. _C.


	21. Mt Galardrym

They stood at the door to the orphanage, watching him with an adoration only the very young seemed capable of. These two new-found friends were his sweethearts. It was unlikely that they were sisters, but in the way of the forgotten ones, they were. The blue-eyed, fair haired human and the dark skinned, silver eyed half-drow lived under the same roof in the hope that some day, a new mother and father would arrive to take them home.

Heile's breathless exclamation as he swept her up into his arms lifted Rolan's heart. "So, how do you like it here so far?" he asked, settling her on a seat made with his forearm.

She was all eyes and ears, trying to take it all in at once; The sight, sound, and smell of the blacksmith shop across the street; The rumble and clop of a horse-drawn wagon passing close enough to actually touch; And a mockingbird in the dooryard with the most impressive repertoire of calls, including the sound of Haljal's hammer at the 'smith's shop, all competed for her attention.

"We've got to be going," Gale reminded him, hefting his travel-bag and turning to the street. "Your wife is waiting. It's just a short walk from here." His impatience was not like him at all.

"I hear ya'," Rolan replied. He kissed Heile on the cheek and set her beside her new sister at the door, who clamored for his attention too. She got a kiss as well. After taking stock of his pack's contents, he waved to the little ones and followed the moon elf down the busy street and out of town.

* * *

Gale was tireless. In spite of his small stature, he could walk for hours without rest. The killing pace he set all but walked Rolan into the ground. A few hours walk and they were in unfamiliar territory. The moon elf boy continued his pace, never missing a turn. When he came to a stream rolling around and over fallen rocks, he called a halt.

After a quick rest, the two stepped into a portal in a sheer rock wall that Gale insisted was marked-Rolan gave up looking. He couldn't see anything on the weathered cliff's face.

The portal exited into rolling forested foothills leading upward to dark mountains shrouded in the distance. Rolan shifted his pack to ease a sore shoulder. _If this is just a short walk, I'd hate to see what he'd call a journey, _he grumped. He was going on will now-_One foot in front of the other._ The two sentries posted at the camp's perimeter were a most welcome sign that his torment was over for today.

The sight of Lillith, shading her eyes to the setting sun's glare, so much like his mother, erased his weariness. Her embrace transported him to a quiet place where their hearts lived. Only now did he realize how much he'd missed her. After their evening meal, a whole night lay before them-Tomorrow, they would have to climb Mount Galardrym...

* * *

_Galcuiva_ _en Teu-Tel'Quessir_ awoke from a most disturbing reverie. It was about Rolan and Lillith's final trial-A trial beyond his ability to comprehend. Their path ahead was littered with many darkly obscured obstacles. Though his experience was limited, he feared for his charge's sanity. "My Lady's will be done," he murmured, getting up to rouse the chosen ones.

* * *

"_Vedui, vanime hin,"_ the tiny, moon elf woman's greeting brightened Isilme'len's morning. The long trip from the _Temple of the Moon_ to Highcliff did not tax her unduly-The temple's _Starsinger Midwife_ had taken an easy pace-There was still plenty of time.

"And _vedui _to you as well, _ai'tara_," E'len said in return. Since Tiernah had volunteered to help out at the bakery, she could afford to take a day off and stay at home every now and then. "Please, come in. Make yourself at home," she said to her visitor.

At _little mother's_ bidding, Rolan's mom led the way to his and Lil's bedroom. "My dreams are shrouded in an impenetrable mist," she lamented, opening the door. "What can I do to aid them?"

_Ai'tara's _smile at a mother's concern was cryptic. "Be here for _her,_" she replied. "Your heart will show you the way-Heed its wisdom." She sighed and settled into the chair in a corner beside the bed. "_Her _trial has begun. Remember... the _one chosen _will not see all-All that is the will of _Our Lady._ In the end... _all will be well-all manner of things._" With that said, she pulled a dark velvet shawl around her shoulders and closed her eyes.

* * *

Just before leaving camp to search _Mount Galardrym_ for Gale's cryptic _forgotten one_, the three took stock;

Lillith, dressed in elven chain mail with considerable room about the middle, carried an ornate duskwood longbow befitting her prowess. The missiles it launched were crafted at the temple for their purpose-The elven fletcher knew of the undead the three would face and how to defeat them.

Rolan's mithral chain, carefully fitted when he got to camp last night, was covered by a blue _Bladesinger's_ tabard. The hilt of the sword given to him by the _Double Eagle's _crew and consecrated to _Eilistraee, _was beside his left ear-Close at hand.

Gale's doeskin _Armor of the Chameleon_, dyed a pale pastel blue, granted him the ability to hide in plain sight. Tendrils of lightning crackled from the ends of his half-staff. His reply to their questions about why they were here was simply that someone forgotten needed help. He headed up the trail without further comment.

"This is the path the Knight-Captain's band of mercenaries followed," Rolan called to his wife. When she caught up with him, he showed her the broken arrow he'd found. The red feathers it was fletched with told him Neeshka had been here.

The path, clinging to the side of this most inhospitable pile of rock and molten lava, was narrow-They'd have to travel in single file much of the way. One misstep, one slip, could lead to an agonizing death in the flaming lava pits below.

The tiny group threaded their way up the steadily rising path. Their view was obscured by smoke and heat haze rising from pools of molten rock on both sides of the path.

A desiccated corpse marked the divergence of the trail. To the left, it sloped downward into thicker haze and more smoke. To the right, the path grew steeper, climbing to higher levels obscured by bitter sulfurous fumes. They took the right fork, the climb getting tougher the farther along they progressed.

To the right, sitting on a knob of rock, was a crudely built watchtower. Its size spoke of fire-giant design. At Gale's cry of warning, Rolan drew his blade. It was ablaze with a blue flame that hissed with holy menace at their enemy as he swept it around and over his head. Lil's bow was drawn and an arrow was ready.

What appeared to be fire giants lumbered down the trail. Their immense size caused the ground to tremble under their slow heavy tread. They'd been fire giants... once. Now, their cadaverous appearance did not whisper, did not speak... it shouted _undead _to the three.

Lillith's blessed arrow put the leading giant down before he got very far-The shaft staked his dead heart. She watched with a dark fascination as the corpse collapsed in on itself, leaving a smear of grey ash as a marker. There was now two giants left for them to deal with.

Between the two remaining undead and Rolan stood two beasts that had once been their pets. The hell hounds' mangy pelts were alive with worms, the rotting flesh had sloughed off in places. Their stench assaulted Rolan, enveloping him in a wave of revulsion. Lil's warning call rooted him in place as Gale's chain lightning consumed one, then the other, leaving a thin, gritty haze to go along with the ringing in their ears. The acrid pall added to the general fug of this gods-forsaken place.

Two of his wife's arrows hissed over his head in quick succession, effectively staking one of the remaining giants. Rolan's blade pierced the heart of the last one standing, sending him to his eternal rest. Nothing remained of these undead but a trace of gray ash on the bare stone that the restless wind would soon remove._ Sehanine's Three _had done their job well.

After a short rest they continued, following a trail that ascended the mountain's tortured contours. A glowing river of lava flowed sluggishly through the canyon far below, reminding them of the consequences of a misplaced step.

The trail forked again at a large lava pool. This time, they took the left trail that ascended to a log stockade, like those used to hold prisoners. This one was deserted, the gate flung open. Rolan's sword beheaded a hell hound before the others even know of the attack. Two fire giants and a remaining hound appeared from the camp beyond.

While her husband dispatched the hound, Lil and Gale dealt with the two undead fire giants. After her arrows slowed them down, the boy's fire-ball released them from their necromantic bondage.

Before the three had a chance to catch their breath, four more giants lumbered up from the far side of their camp. Rolan and Lillith could only stand still and stare as the most impressive volley of chain lightning they'd ever seen deafened them. _Sehanine's Sentinel _now commanded the power of _The Daughter of the Night Skies. _The rumble of Gale's most recent thunder marched away, following the ancient fire-scoured peaks to the west. The undead fire giants who once lived at this camp were no more.

After snorting at the scorched smell of death all around her, Lil paused to take a good look around. Though nothing showed itself, she couldn't escape the feeling of being watched. She felt no evil intent-Nothing at all like that. It was just a benign presence that followed behind, watching. Suppressing a shiver, she hefted her carry-all and hurried to catch up with the others.

* * *

The gate on the stockade built at the end of the valley trail hung askew, its hinges, though solid, were twisted by some force of impressive proportions. Edging up along one side, Rolan peered into the clearing known as _The Seat of the Mountain._ The fire giant king's throne, a massive stone edifice of black basalt, was on a tiny island in a pool of flaming lava. To the right was a log palisade for prisoners. Its gate was secured by a long iron bar.

Evidence of a recent battle was scattered everywhere; Broken weapons and pale bloodless corpses littered the flat expanse hewn from the native bedrock. No scavengers squabbled over their treasure here, nothing moved.

To Rolan's surprise and then his horror, the corpses stirred and, one-by-one, got to their feet-There were four fire giants and three hell hounds all told. Their king, the largest by half-a-head, bent to retrieve a battle-axe of massive proportions.

As the giants grouped around their leader, Rolan retreated into the valley, past the broken gates, forcing the hounds to advance one at a time. His blade, having once tasted its foe, glowed ever brighter as the undead beasts closed in, reminding the three that they were not alone-They were _tel'Seldarine._

After dispatching the first devil-dog, he stood his ground, knowing the battle would soon be joined. He paused for a heartbeat or two and seeing no more beasts, sidled up to the gate once again. The giants were standing on the far side of the clearing, waiting. The three would have to bring the battle to their enemy.

Knowing that arcane spells and blessed arrows would soon be following, Rolan charged through the gate and disappeared from sight. Lillith would remember his battle cry; _Ilornaaa..._ and how it was cut off for the rest of her long life.

Gale paused before advancing, torn between his concern for Rolan and his duty to Lil's safety. The _Chosen One _was alright-Her bow ready. She waved him on with an impatient shooing gesture. The moon elf stepped into the trap without looking back.

* * *

Her knitting, after many years of patient practice, was now second nature. A cross between true knitting and crocheting, her work was treasure-Finer and softer than anything made on a loom. Her heart and soul were poured into the gifts she crafted for the little ones. Strong and durable, they were often passed from one generation to the next. She sighed in resignation and tucked the half completed coverlet away. It was now time.

"I don't understand it," E'len was saying to Tie as they sat in the kitchen eating break fast. "Last year's harvest was the best ever, but look at the prices. Even flour and corn starch have almost doubled-Why is everything so dear?"

The Knight-Captain was thoughtful. "The shadow-blight on the _mere,_ the attack on _Castle Never,_ on the throne itself..." she shook her head. "The specter of war puts the fear of the gods into everyone. Rumors are that it's now being called the _War of Shadows-_It affects the supply and the price of food..."

"Please forgive the intrusion, my children," she began. Although _ai'tara's_ presence always lifted their mood, today was an exception. "The _chosen one's_ trial has begun. We have a part to play yet. Please, come with me." After sending their orphan-helper to the bakery with news of their absence, they followed _little mother _solemnly, in single file upstairs.

Their elven communion started that morning and continued through mid-day, past sunset and into the quiet night. On Isilme'len's right was the Knight-Captain-To her left was _ai'tara._ After the sun dipped below the horizon, as if on cue, Moonbow lay down on her cushion in the circle between their knees. Curling into a compact ball, she promptly fell asleep.

At moonrise, Tiernah's blue _telkiira_ once more ascended to eye level in the center of their circle. It projected an image of _Sehanine's Three_ from the wasteland called _Mount_ _Galardrym._ The _Three of Highcliff _watched reverently as the _Trial of the Mother_ unfolded.

* * *

The child's father had just charged foolishly into what could only be called a meat grinder with unholy blades wielded by undead fire giants. The moon elf pipsqueak, a conduit for the most impressive display of arcane firepower that he'd ever seen, just stood there-Not sure of what to do.

After seeing the pregnant girl send the moon elf on with a wave, he quietly stepped closer, ready to press his advantage. Shandra's spirit was very close now-He could almost feel her presence. Patiently, he awaited Lillith's next move.

* * *

Lillith's view from the gate was obscured by heat haze. She couldn't see Rolan or Gale, and a vast emptiness was creeping up on her. It was not like that sensation of being watched, of being followed-That still nagged her. She felt nothing-They just weren't here.

Her first arrow was true, it found its target-As was the second, then the third. The king's minions fell one after the other. Seeing his advantage slipping away, he charged Lillith's bow, swinging his axe with each long stride. She was so intent on her target, the voice reciting an incantation very close behind escaped her notice. Her free hand, so adept and confident, had been betrayed. It reached back over her shoulder and froze as realization dawned on its owner. The last missile had flown-The quiver was empty.

The mother-to-be couldn't breath. It felt as if she was underwater as the warlock's two furious blasts of eldritch energy passed over her head with very little room to spare. The bolts splattered against the giant's torso, enveloping him in a purple-black death bag. He was tottering on the very edge of balance as the death magic consumed his life. He toppled over as the spells dissipated with a sharp bang. Before Lil could even think of getting out of the way, the fire giant king fell on her and the lights went out.

* * *

The girl was buried under a dusty pile of empty plate mail. Her arms and legs all pointed in the right direction-Nothing appeared to be broken. Thank the gods for small favors-The _chosen one_ still lived. The problem was, which god? _Oh, that's right, _the warlock grumbled to himself. _The moon elves call her Sehanine. _After thinking for a moment, _Thank Sehanine, _he amended, looking skyward with a sour face.

All the abominations spawned by the illustrious Knight-Captain's_ friends _as they carelessly slashed their way through here were gone, dispatched by these three _children._ The girl owed him her life-He'd taken the last giant just before his axe fell. The dust that had once been fire giant bodies was left where they'd fallen-Bits of armor and broken weapons were scattered hell-to-breakfast about the clearing. His arcane sense told him these undead would not rise again.

The brave fool and the elven pipsqueak were absent as well. _Leaving a pregnant woman to fend for herself... sheer lunacy,_ he snorted, taking a long look around. _I'll have to take care of this myself, _he said to no one in particular, gently lifting the girl and settling her into a makeshift bed under a lean-to built beside the prisoner's pen. Her travel bag, stocked with necessary healing potions and a scant supply of food, he placed at her feet-as well as his last full water skin. That she'd need when she awakened.

He was finished here-He could do no more. Dusting his hands, he sighed when confronted with the prospect of the long trek back to Crossroad Keep. Before he could take a step, his world grayed out and the rock disappeared from beneath his feet. The chaos of the maelstrom enveloped him, but he had no cause to fear the situation, he'd traveled to other planes than this. It was obvious he was being sent somewhere-Time would tell him where, if not who was doing the work. To save his sanity, he relaxed and closed his eyes. When the quiet returned, he opened his eyes to a room at the _Phoenix Tail Inn_, his room, it seemed. "Thank you, _Arwen en Amin,_" he said graciously to _The Daughter of the Night Skies_. _Our purposes are not in conflict here, _he thought with a rare smile.

Grey Co. Elven Translations;

_Galcuiva en Teu-Tel'Quessir-_Celebrate the awakening of the people of the moon-Gale's elven name.

_Vedui, vanime hin-_Greetings, beautiful child.

_ai'tara-_Little Mother.

_tel'Seldarine-'_of the' Seldarine.

_telkiira-_loregem

_Arwen en Amin-_My Lady (non-familiar)

A/N Again... Thanks to _Wyl _for helping to 'tack the corners down'. _C._


	22. The Seat of the Mountain

_Help... me..._

She was dry, so dry. Yet her armor padding was soaked. Hoping against hope that it wasn't blood she felt, but only sweat, she opened her swollen eyes. It wasn't the red stain of blood-She offered a prayer of thanks to _Sehanine_ for this small favor. In battle with the cursed undead here on _Mount Galardrym_, the only blood would be her own.

Misery awakened before she had a chance to move much. Her joints felt as if they were filled with broken pottery shards when she did. Her head pounded with each heartbeat from the heat and lack of water.

_Help me..._

Lillith sat up, wincing as her overworked muscles screamed their outrage. She felt like the whole mountain had fallen on her. The last thing she remembered was the the undead fire giant king charging at her when she'd run out of arrows, then... darkness.

She felt the little one inside of her move. Not her usual agitated kick, but a slow rolling like she was trying to get comfortable. Easing back a bit, the mother-to-be held her middle and hummed an ancient elven lullaby, sure that the sound, along with the soothing thoughts she communed would settle her restless babe.

That done, she took a moment to look around. Someone had placed her carefully on a pallet covered with animal pelts under a sheltering roof. _Rolan,_ her heart lifted at the thought. _But where is he? Where is Gale?_ The open side of the shelter looked out over _The Seat of the Mountain,_ dominated by the fire giant king's throne. Aside from the fire giant's frowning monument to their ruler, there was nothing to be seen-Nothing moved.

_Please... help me..._

At Lil's feet was her carry-all, battered but still whole. Taking it up, she dug around and pulled out a bottle that she knew was inside. The curative that she'd bought from Nya in Port Llast would give her a much needed boost. The golden syrup was sweet, yet sour at the same time. Nya swore by its effectiveness-She called it _sleep in a bottle._ Lillith believed in its power to revive her like a few hour's worth of sleep. If applied to wounds, it would speed healing as well.

_Help... me... please..._

She poured a worm of the syrup on a finger and licked it-She'd always liked the taste. Two more times and she was feeling better. _Take it with water,_ she reminded herself, looking around the shelter. There it was. Her spirits lifted when she picked up the full waterskin. Burned into the side of it was a pair of letters that meant little to her-AJ. It smelled alright, so she took a small sip-_Slow, don't overdo it,_ her mind advised-It wouldn't do for her to sick it back up. It was far from cool, but it still refreshed her. At the second sip, her stomach clenched alarmingly, but soon subsided.

* * *

That feeling of being watched had departed, she felt completely alone. It was now replaced by a vague sense of urgency. _Hurry or I will be lost, _it told Lillith. She wasn't sure _who _would be lost-_Maybe the_ _forgotten one?_ She wondered. To test her legs she stood and took a halting step, then another. Though stiff, they would support her. A little exercise and they'd be fine.

The clearing was a chaotic collection of weapons, armor and bones of every sort. Animal, human and giant remains were everywhere. Where in this godless graveyard were her husband and Gale? She'd never felt so alone.

_Help... me..._

The faint cry was just above a whisper... it wasn't anything her ears could hear. The restless wind that had scoured these peaks for generations would have covered any sound less than a loud conversation. It seemed to come... from behind her.

Lillith slowly turned to the barred gates on the prisoner's pen beside her shelter. That plaintive cry for attention was coming from inside...

The iron bar on the gate was as thick as her wrist and twice her height in length. It resisted all her efforts to draw it aside, stubbornly refusing to move. Giving up for the moment, she looked around at the junk scattered around the clearing before finding what she wanted.

Wedging the end of a broken axe handle behind a shoulder swaged into the bar's end, she threw her weight onto the handle and was rewarded with a rusty groan as the bar moved half a hand. Encouraged, Lil laboriously worked the heavy bar back far enough to release one of the ponderous gates. After she'd pulled the gate open, she took a careful look around and slipped inside.

At first glance, there was nothing here but a pile of rags in a far corner. A closer look revealed a dark elf, a drow female dressed in the finery of an underdark merchant, curled up in the corner. Fearing the worst, she stepped closer to the body and kneeled down. To Lil's relief, the drow merchant was still breathing.

An application of Nya's _sleep in a bottle_ to the dark one's lips seemed to revive her a little-She stirred and uttered a weak moan. Silvery, almost colorless eyes opened and regarded Lil with a dark suspicion.

She uncapped her waterskin. "Can you sit up now?" she asked with her hand on the drow's shoulder.

The drow sat up slowly and after a few sips of water, took a look around before speaking. "Thank you, sister," she said in a strained whisper. Looking over Lil's shoulder, she grimaced-Something outside had caught her attention.

"Beautiful dark sister... forgotten one," a man's voice called from the clearing. "I know you are in there... COME OUT," It commanded.

The dark elf woman moaned again-Concern was plain on her lined face. "It is HIM... don't let him take me," she implored.

Lillith, after a quick look around, picked up the only weapon there-A broad bladed short sword. Though it was small, it had been crafted in the underdark and almost seemed made to fit her hand only. As she slipped out the partly closed gate, Lil failed to see the drow's sly grin.

* * *

The warrior she faced was a stolid looking moon elf dressed in a modest chain mail shirt-His hand was on the pommel of a sheathed greatsword worn on a simple tooled hide belt. Under any other circumstances Lillith would have thought him handsome. To show her intent, she brandished her sword, spinning it deftly and stopping it with its point in her off-hand-Showing him its entire length.

Upon seeing her display, his face broke into an amused smile. "Hold there, ferocious one," he said with laughter in his voice. "I would speak with the _dark one..._ with your leave, of course." His smile widened.

Though she saw no guile in his manner, Lil held her ground. "That woman is no threat," she insisted. "to _you _or anyone else..."

A strident voice that could only be drow interrupted her; "_Tethrin Veralde'_... _Corellon Larethian's _bastard get," she hissed. "What is it you want of me? Will you never leave me in peace?" the dark one challenged as she emerged from the half opened gate and faced the _Master of Blades._

He surprised Lil by bowing and addressing the drow formally; "_Eilistraee, Daughter of Araushnee,_ my mother, _Sehanine Moonbow,_ wishes to speak with you. _Corellon's_ estranged children needn't face their ascent from the darkness alone. It is still not too late... the rend may yet be healed... come with me... please." His emotion, unlike any drow Lillith knew was very much a part of the _people of the moon. _To the moon elves_, _the _War of Crowns_ was over.

At this, the dark one's reluctance vanished-She almost smiled. "Very well, half-brother-It is certainly worth a try, one moment, please," she replied. Turning to face Lil, she released the clasp on a fine silver chain around her neck. "This is for you, my child," she said in a voice that belied her _Ilythiiri_ warrior spirit. "Bless you for finding me in my vulnerable, physical form. When you awakened me, the fire giant's curse was lifted."

She nodded toward the moon elf warrior waiting patiently near the broken valley gates. "It appears that my step-mother means to have her way. Still, I don't regret that she sent you to find me and you led my half-brother here to plead her case," she said with a sigh. "Well, my _Li'l Liantelle,_ I must go. You have earned this amulet along with my heart-felt gratitude. It will protect you and keep you safe from all that is evil." The drow goddess fastened the pendant around Lil's neck and kissed her forehead. "Farewell, my child-Be brave in the trial ahead," she entreated.

Rolan's Lillith, an orphan from the village of Highcliff, now _Sehanine's Chosen One,_ watched in wonder as _Eilistraee, The Silver Lady, _and _Tethrin Veralde', The Master of Blades, _linked arms and made their way through the valley gates.

* * *

She wasn't ready yet. He wasn't sure how he knew-He just knew. He was fighting the cursed one, and as frightening as this situation was, he carried on-Even though he knew his effort was just a delaying tactic. _Corellon's _daughter was still here on the mountain-Lillith needed more time. A calculated sweep of his staff at his foe's legs put it on the ground, but it began to get up right away. Knowing that he'd gained only a breath and a heartbeat or two in time, Gale moved on.

* * *

Lillith did not hear the two as they walked up the path.

"_Corellon's bastard get_?" he was aghast.

"Almost as bad as _forgotten one,_" was her rejoinder.

"What is so bad about that?" he wondered aloud.

"_Forgotten_ implies that I am _alone_-no _followers_-No _believers._ That is an insult to any deity," she practically hissed at him.

"Not _forgotten,_ dear sister-The emphasis was on _beautiful_. How could you not fill the temple with faithful?" Knowing a dark elf's sensitivity to wile, he dared to compliment her. In this instance, it was worth trying.

"_Hummpf,_" was her only reply. She was not mollified in the least.

* * *

"My Lady... to arms," a moon elf boy passing the gates on the run called. When he saw Lil, he turned and tried to stop all at once. Just when she thought he would lose his balance and fall, he nimbly recovered and ran back the way he'd come.

She was so glad to see him, his alarm went unheeded. It was Gale... Surely Rolan had to be somewhere near. The sound of bestial snarls and childish cries of anguish stopped her after only a step. Gale was engaged in battle with an animal of some kind-And faring poorly by the sounds coming from beyond the gates. The quiet that now descended from the confrontation did nothing to dispel her dread.

She now noticed the drow short sword still in her hand. It wasn't much of a weapon, but it was better than an empty quiver. What would her militia instructor say about her shortsightedness? _People, there are many ways to throw your lives away, _he'd said on a day that seemed a long time ago. _One sure way is to run out of bolts-Keep count and live longer._ The memory of his lecture brought a stab of homesickness.

* * *

The figure at the entrance was a man in chain mail... Rolan. She took three long steps toward him, almost dropping her blade in her excitement. "Where have you two been..." her elated question died on her lips when she got a better look at him. "Oh, no-_Gods no_," she moaned. Could... this thing... this remnant be what was left of her trothed, her lover-Her friend for these few short years?

The once bright chain mail he'd worn was now tarnished and dusty looking-As if it was recently exposed to a great heat that aged it in an instant. The tabard that bore the mark of distinction among Seldarine warriors was a scorched rag hanging in tatters about the thing's neck. But the worst was the face-His beloved face. It had aged an eternity... since his... death. Her mind rebelled. This was _not_ Rolan-The man she loved still lived. Gale... Gale was well-_He _was still alive. How could he let her husband die?

The cursed one was upon her. With unholy strength, it knocked her sprawling to the rocky ground, sending her blade spinning away across the clearing. The blow to its back made the horror turn with an enraged snarl to face his attacker.

The thing towered over Gale, who was a sorry sight. Though he was bloodied and trembled with exhaustion, the moon elf held his ground-His staff still menaced his opponent. "My Lady, this is _not _your love. Your love is _no more_," he called to her, his tired voice brave despite its desperation. "You must release him before he kills us both..." A blow silenced him before he finished.

Before she could stand, it was upon her again. Drawing the _Sea Dragon Cutlass _given to Rolan by the _Double Eagle's _crew, it held the blade overhead to strike.

Lillith felt a warmth between her breasts. The _Silver Lady's _amulet, though it glowed white-hot, did not burn her-It caused the cutlass poised over her head to give off a light of its own. With a cry of pain and anguish, her undead attacker dropped the burning blade and fell on her.

The putrid smell of scorched flesh sickened her as its hands closed around her throat. Beating at its arms did no good-They were as solid as iron bars. Black pits from the hells were in the thing's eyes. As she stared into them, dull red flames flared out at her. Black spots danced before her eyes. Her mortality was before her now.

Consciousness was fading. She felt a lethargy steal over her. The babe's agitated kick brought her back to this world. As she pushed at the ground, Lil's hand brushed something solid-Wrapped around its hilt and raised the glowing blade. When it touched the thing's face, the abomination that was once her husband recoiled with a horrified wail.

"Release him," Gale's voice was now inside her head. "If you love him... _set him free._"

The thing's head was down. It could not look at the blade's glare. She knew then it could not harm her any more. She'd won-Now, she could walk away.

"End his torment," the _sentinel's _voice insisted. "Only _you _can release him."

"NO..." her soul cried out. "How can I... kill him?" She refused to let him go. Memories jostled together in her mind-Clamoring for her to hold on.

_ A lonely orphan girl who was irritated to distraction by a pest-of-a-boy who was more interested in her than in the spider she was intently watching. A spider who knew just how to spin a beautiful web without anyone's help._

_ A boy who became very upset when she ignored him, or even worse, made fun of his strange habits._

_ A boy who was beaten up by the local bullies trying to defend her honor._

_ A boy with the annoying habit of dumping every coin he could find in the collection box at the waif's home's front door and then insisting that he wasn't buying her attention._

_ A boy who really didn't mind that his girl was a better archer than he was._

_ A boy who missed her when she was in a mood and stayed away._

_ A boy she'd tolerated, endured, noticed, liked, loved, then... lost on this disease-raddled shite-pile of a gods-damned hell-fire blasted mountain._

"_Damn you,_" she cried, her anger boiling over. "_How could you leave me?_" she raged, kicking loose gravel at the pitiful figure standing before her. She raised the glowing cutlass over her head. Its glow was in sympathy with the amulet she wore at her breast. A final thought stayed her stroke;

_A boy who'd grown to be a man by capturing her heart with the words; 'Teach me how to love you, Anaramin'._

She had... and he did. _It's done, _she mourned. _It's not enough for Lil at all, but it'll have to do._She bowed her head._ Sehanine, help me carry on._

Her anger faded-replaced with her love and sympathy. Through her tears, she saw him as she would always remember him. "Farewell, _Astalder,_ my love. Wait for me at the end of the trail. I'll be there when I'm done," she said, just before the blade did its holy work.

After seeing the _Chosen One _finish her task, the communing _Highcliff three, _feeling the sharpness of her sorrow and loss, brought her swiftly home.

A/N Thanks _Wyl. C._


	23. Highcliff III

Someone or something was on the bed beside her-The bedclothes rustled when it moved. The change of locations from the fiery mountain to her home in Highcliff was striking. It was cool and blessedly quiet here-A pleasure to just breathe. Take a breath, hold it-Let it out. There was a weight... no, that wasn't quite right. Someone held her left hand in a firm, yet gentle grip.

The woman sitting beside her, holding her hand, had to be the oldest moon elf she had ever seen. "You are back with us, I see. Call me _ai'tara,_" she said, her voice sounded like someone Lillith knew and loved instantly. She squeezed Lil's hand and asked; "So, how do you feel? You have taken quite a shock."

"I'm tired... stiff... sore," Lillith replied, stretching her arms to get a feel of her misery. There was surprisingly little pain. Her right arm brushed something velvety soft that squeaked a greeting. "Moonbow," she smiled as she picked up her weasel friend.

"Do you remember... where you were? What happened to you?" the moon elf asked her kindly. On Lil's return, she'd used her unique ability to take on the pain suffered at _the trial of the mother_ on Mount Galardrym. In time, the memories would return, but by then the pain of loss would not be as sharp.

"No... it's like... a bad dream." It was taking quite an effort for her to recall anything about their battle with the undead. Stroking Moonbow's soft fur seemed to calm her. When her eyes fell upon the unsheathed _Sea Dragon_ _cutlass _that had returned with her, Lillith visibly stiffened. She looked up at _little mother_, her lips trembled, her eyes spilled over. "_My husband,_" she said in a small, lost voice. "_I've... killed him_."

* * *

The commotion in the atrium drew the _Heavenly Starsinger _from her elven reverie. The quiet here in _Sehanine's Temple of the Moon _was so seldom broken that anyone entering commanded her attention. Exiting the _lunarium_, she encountered three of her _sentinels_ returning from assignment on _Mount Galardrym_. They escorted a disheveled moon elf boy who looked to be on the verge of a physical breakdown.

Her heart went out to the young one who stood before her. She could not show her sympathy though, that would insult his sense of honor. After all, he was just a boy, but he was a _novice_ _sentinel. _Instead, drawing herself up, she fixed him with a stern look. She waited.

In spite of being bloodied, exhausted, and filthy, _Galcuiva en Teu-tel'Quessir _sketched a perfect bow and reported; "My Lady, _Heavenly Starsinger,_ I... I have failed in my charge and my... duties." He dropped his eyes to the floor. "The father's soul was damned and... and the mother was taken away." He shuffled his feet while wiping at his eyes. "I can only hope the petitioners have called her... home. It's all my fault." His voice broke on the last word.

She looked up from the distraught boy at her _senior sentinel_. He, along with the other two guardians, had stayed encamped while _Sehanine's Three_ had climbed the mountain. Her raised eyebrow asked a question; _Did he fail?_

The old warrior, knowing the path that the boy had had to follow, smiled his pride and shook his head. He mouthed a single word-_No. _He and his comrades seemed to stand a bit taller.

Taking his chin in hand, she raised the boy's head to look into his sky-blue eyes. "Have you forgotten, _sentinel_?" she asked him sternly. "Judgment is for _The Daughter of the Night Skies _alone_,_ not her children."

He swallowed, the fearful look not quite leaving his face. "Yes, My Lady... I mean No My Lady," he amended, recalling her question.

"Then, you have just enough time before _evensong _to make yourself presentable," she said with a touch of motherly reproach. "If your heart is pure, you have nothing to worry about. I am sure that _Our_ _Lunar Lady _will take into account that this is your first true trial. Now, I'll see you at _prayers _before _evensong, _do not be late," she said, dismissing him.

* * *

While Lillith mourned her husband's loss in Highcliff, Ammon Jerro sat at the writing desk in his room at the Phoenix Tail Inn at Crossroad Keep. After re-reading his letter of reproof addressed to the Knight-Captain, he balled it up with a muttered curse and threw it into the fireplace._ Writing, a coward's solution, _his mind rebelled. _The only way she'll listen is a confrontation-Face-to-face, _he thought. His mind was made up.

Ammon knew that every day they sat around here at _Crossroad Keep_, doing nothing, the _King of Shadows _grew stronger. Re-forging the _Sword of Gith_ was their next step on the path to the _Vale of Merdelain. _The _Zerth _believed that the Knight-Captain now possessed enough shards to complete the only weapon with any chance of harming the _Guardian. _Until last night, how to restore the blade was just a missing piece of a maddeningly incomplete puzzle.

* * *

Last night, he'd lain awake after returning from helping the girl at the _Seat of the Mountain._ Though he was exhausted, the release of sleep eluded him. His mind wandered that hazy plain of pre-sleep-_Gith...dragons... nine hells... the Silver Sword... _He sat up so abruptly, he almost fell out of bed. A single word blew away any thought of rest for him; _Nolalothcaragasint. _He spent the night re-living his encounter with the crystal dragon and fell into an uneasy doze as the rising sun painted the window in his room with blood.

* * *

_The King of Shadows must be stopped, not delayed, not walled up... destroyed, _his fist on the writing table made the ink bottle dance, threatening to spill. A thought gave his heart a twinge-The pregnant girl and _Shandra's _spirit. He sighed-Sadly, they'd have to wait. If he survived the encounter in the _vale_, he would pursue her resurrection._ By then, it will be too late,_ a cynical voice chided him. _Be silent,_ he hissed back at it.

Tomorrow, the Knight-Captain would understand why they should move on the _King of Shadows_ right away. To avoid any scrying eyes, Ammon decided not to gate in to Highcliff-He'd have to walk.

* * *

"You have done well my child," _ai'tara _told an anxious mother-to-be. "You waited. Instead of acting rashly-out of anger at your loss-you forestalled that anger and let love guide your blade. To truly love, one must understand when to let go."

"And what is my consolation, _mother of all?_" a distraught Lillith asked. "Am I to grow old alone? Raise a... fatherless child? _The goddess forbid_," she swore, her golden eyes flashed.

_Ai'tara's _face was firm. "If it is O_ur Lady's_ will. Then _that _is what will be _done,_" She said with the voice of the true believer. "Show _her_ your _faith._" The tiny moon elf woman sighed. "Come, child," she invited with open arms. "Let me ease your hurt."

"Nay, _mother,_" She declined kindly. Lil's chin was up. Her elven eyes blazed. "I _want _to feel the pain-I want to feel it _all. _Now I know what I must do." With that said, she snatched up her late husband's cutlass and left their bedroom without donning a robe.

_ Little Mother _looked heavenward and smiled. "_My Lady, _your _chosen one _is most high spirited. If I may say-You have chosen well," she whispered, slipping into reverie to witness a holy ascension. A noble spirit would begin a new life on the rising full moon. "Show _Our Lady _your faith, my child," _ai'tara _repeated her admonishment.

* * *

The full moon was on the wane. An errant cloud raced by, dimming Selune's countenance before hurrying on. Lillith smiled. _You are here Astalder, _she breathed, bringing the bright blade to her lips. She kneeled to the wooden floor of _Isilme'len's_ upstairs hideaway and held the cutlass in her palms above her head. She spoke;

"_Sehanine Moonbow, Daughter of the Night Skies, _I am your servant in life to my death."

"I have done as you willed and complained not."

"Grant me your knowing... _My Lady_, sweet _Moonlight Mystery... _Please... _Show me._"

The half-elven mother-to-be was bathed in silver moonlight-It surrounded her in a brilliant curtain. With each breath she drew, it pulsed-A dimming, then brightening that gave its aura a life of its own. The cutlass she held as an offering glowed a steady pale blue.

_ "Your heart is true," _the voice of a woman, pitched for her ears alone intoned. "_And now, my keen blade of Eilistraee... show me your edge."_

She stood, bowed gracefully, and presented the blade by touching the foible to her forehead. Lillith's trial would conclude with a dance of the sword;

_Lillith lost all track of time-It flowed, then seemed to stand still, then it ran on again. She whirled, the blade in her hands emitting a shower of sparks where it cut the silvered drape surrounding her. The cut healed in an instant, leaving an embroidered weal spiraling around in the blade's wake._

The setting moon's fading light lifted its silver curtain. The glowing blade in her hands was all the light that remained. Lillith did not see the small sable creature sitting at the base of a moonflower vine growing from a silver planter at the floor's edge. The creature's pale gold eyes glowed with an inner light-It was watching Lillith's every move.

_Sehanine's Chosen _felt the joy the dance infused in her begin to fade. Again she presented the blade to her lips and kissed him good-bye. Feeling the pain of his loss returning, she reversed the long blade in her grip toward the floor-The motion was almost a snap of her wrists. Looking heavenward, she said, "_My Lady, _your will-_Let it be done," _ and drove the point into the wooden floor with all her might.

* * *

Three moon elf women resting in their separate rooms witnessed the miracle; _Ai'tara _was in the _chosen ones'_ bedroom, _Isilme'len _was seated on her marriage bed, and _Lady Tiernah _was in the Edgewater's guest room. A common connection the elve's called communion allowed them to witness Lillith's invocation.

Lillith sat on the floor upstairs facing the planted blade, whose glow arose into the starlit heavens and enveloped her and the creature watching. The spirit departed the one and entered the other as the new day began. The bright light faded, leaving all in darkness.

* * *

Mother and babe, safe in their bed, shared an elven communion. They descended into restful reverie, as did the _Highcliff_ _three. Moonbow, _once_ Shandra's_ _spirit vessel_, now just another silvan creature, crawled slowly into her summer nest in the tangle of moonflower vines, blinked her brown eyes, and slept.

_Ai'tara _watched the mother-to-be in silence as dawn drew near. Darkness still ruled. She liked this time of day. It was a time to reflect-to remember. Her hands worked seemingly with a mind of their own. _Melyanna's _first gift, a coverlet, was almost done. The final tie was done. She pulled the corners out and examined the knitting with a critical eye. The first washing would draw the weave up and tension the yarn just the way she wanted it.

She folded the knitting and looked up at Lillith, seated on the bed facing the open window. "She's such a beautiful child," _little mother _whispered, knowing she would be heard. "Her young one will be pleasing to the eye as well." Upon hearing him in the sitting room, _ai'tara_ stood and said, "He comes. So, child, your final trial begins."

Even in reverie Lillith heard _little mother's _voice in the sitting room. "Good morn, father of _Melyanna_. Welcome home-Go right in. She will be overjoyed to see you."

* * *

She was re-living lost dreams of him. His smell, his touch, his _being _surrounded her. The voice singing an elven lullaby, so much like elven fathers through the ages, was his as well. His warm presence at her back drew her from a pleasurable reverie.

"Begone unwelcome wraith," she moaned, refusing to look over her shoulder at him. "Your presence here torments my soul."

The warmth withdrew. A gentle hand caressed the tender spot between her shoulders, causing her to suppress a shiver. "Your _Li'l Liantelle _has changed-She has... matured." His voice was as warm and alive as his presence. "She is... beautiful, as are you_, Arwenamin , Anaramin. Vanimle sila tiri. _His finger's tracing of the silvered spider tattoo on her back gave her a shiver she couldn't suppress.

Lillith picked up her mirrors-A wedding present from the groom's parents. One was round with a handle carved of aged teakwood. The other was a mirror glass set into a square frame. She kept the round one and passed the other back to him. "So the tattoo's changed," she said, still refusing to look at him. "The itch back there has been maddening since I got back. Only now, after _ai'tara _has treated it, has it finally faded. The irritation is almost gone now." She held the glass up. "Please, show me," she entreated.

After he held his mirror up behind her back, she took a long look and sighed, "It _has_ changed... after meeting that... dark elf... on the mountain." she shook her head in confusion. "I'm still not sure what happened there."

"It's over, you're safe now," his tone was soothing. He set his glass aside.

Hers was turned up so she could see his face clearly. She regarded his reflection with suspicion. "Tell me wraith-Are you real? Why are you here?" she challenged.

He shrugged. "Last time I looked it was me," he said lamely, looking around their bedroom. "I've come home. Where else would I go?"

Was that anger she heard in his tone? Her suspicion remained. "If you are my husband, then you will know that blade-Next to the one you brought with you. Tell me," she commanded, pointing to the longsword in the weapon rack next to the sheathed _Sea Dragon cutlass _that she'd left in the floor upstairs last night.

Her vehemence seemed to startle him. "Uhh, _I _brought the scabbard for the cutlass back with me. I... I thought the blade was lost, but it was stuck in the floor upstairs. Why in the blazes was it there?" His temper was fraying.

Ignoring his question, she still refused to look directly at him. "The. Long. Sword," She repeated, crossing her arms over her ample bosom.

He rolled his eyes. "Same old Lil," he muttered. "The longsword was a gift from my father. It is a mithril blade forged by the Dwarf-Elven of Illefarn. It is named _Atar en Illefarn, _that means..._"_

Her crushing embrace and passionate kiss on his lips interrupted his answer. She broke her kiss. "It is you. Thank the gods you're home."

* * *

They sat together on their marriage bed getting caught up. "Where did you go?" she asked, absently fingering a long scar on his forearm. "I thought the giants got you..." She left her statement unfinished, biting her lower lip.

"It's all a blur... the last thing I remember, we attacked the fire giants... then I woke up in a farm field outside Waterdeep. That walk home was the longest three days of my life."He scratched at the scar on his arm and thought for a moment. "Not knowing where you and Gale were made the walking that much longer-If anything had happened to you..." He looked up at her. "What happened to Gale?"

She shook her head, making her braids fly-Their beads made a musical sound that he would always associate with his wife. "Don't know," she sighed, "I thought he was with you. Is there anything we can do?"

He looked sadly at the fine blades in the weapon rack in the corner of their room. "All we can do now is pray."

What memories remained of their ordeal on the mountain were clouded as if years instead of just days had passed. The passing of time would eventually erase them completely-The young ones would move on.

"She's awake. Can you feel her moving?" Lillith sighed again and leaned back into his arms.

His hands explored. "She's agitated-can't keep still. How can you stand all that moving around?" he wondered out loud.

"Mmm..." she sighed with pleasure and laid her head back on his shoulder. She sat up and looked back at him. "Uhhh... It... It won't be much longer." She took a deep breath, grunted again and said, "I think it's time." She raised her voice, startling her husband again; "Ai'tara, I need you, please."

Rolan looked up. Someone had taken his arm-His mother. "_Vedui, 'ta. _Lil is..." He pointed at his wife, who looked to him to be cramped by a bout of gas.

"It's time, son," his mother said cryptically, leading him to the bedroom door. "You have time to take a bath," she wrinkled her nose, "and get something to eat while the mid-wife and I do a woman's work." She herded him toward the kitchen before turning back. "Lillith will be alright-It always sounds worse than it is." She swatted his shoulder with affection. "Tie's watching the fire in the kitchen-She'll feed you and heat the bath water if you ask nicely," She said with a wink and turned away.

Gray Co. Elven Translations;

_ai'tara-_little mother.

_Astalder-_Valiant one.(Rolan's lore name)

_Melyanna-_Precious Gift.(Rolan and Lil's child's _baby-_name)

_Arwenamin-_My Lady.(fam.)

_Anaramin-_My Sun.(Lillith's lore name)

_Vanimle sila tiri-_Your beauty shines bright.

_Liantelle-_Little Spider.

A/N Thanks to Wyl for reminding me that Rolan has to walk to get around...


	24. Highcliff IV

He rapped on the door a second time-Maybe they hadn't heard him the first time. The woman who answered his summons, he recognized immediately. Her vaguely northern peasant's face had just enough elven influence to make her attractive. She probably agonized in front of the mirror about her nose, though. The thought made Ammon smile in spite of himself.

Lillith smiled in return. She hadn't seen her husband behind her or his reaction to their visitor-He turned sharply and ran past the baby's crib in his bedroom, grabbing the first blade in the rack and running quietly to the back door. "Good Morn," she addressed the tall man in a tailored black leather tunic topped with a long ebon hooded cape-The hood was thrown back to reveal a shaved head and finely etched runic tattoos. His pale gold eyes, though not overly friendly, did not convey the malevolence that she'd seen in them on Mount Galardrym.

Lil's face lit up with recognition. "It was _you_... there on the mount. I... I thought it was Rolan, but... you stopped the fire giant king." Her eyes widened with fear.

Her visitor looked to his left, stepped back, and held his hands out to show that he was unarmed. "Stay your blade. I mean you no harm," he growled, showing no fear. "Ammon Jerro, at your service young lady." He swept into a well practiced courtly bow.

"Rolan," she smiled in apology to her visitor, "stand down, love. Master Jerro helped me... helped us on mount Galardrym. Without him, we wouldn't be here."

Her bewildered husband hung his head and took a hesitant step back before lowering his sword. He appeared reluctant to lower his guard completely.

"There's no shame in defending your home, young man," the warlock was admiring Rolan's readied blade as he spoke. "I would've been disappointed in you if you hadn't braced me. Being suspicious of strangers is no vice." Straightening his shoulders, he turned to Lillith and cleared his throat. "On to business-I'm here to speak with the Lady Knight-Captain. My time is limited-My business is more than urgent."

"Come in then, please, Master Jerro," Lillith ushered him into the sitting room and turned back to Rolan. "Could you fetch Tiernah? I think she's with _atara'rim_ at the bakery by now." After she'd sent her husband on his way, she ran to the crib in their bedroom.

Lillith returned with a bundle that could only be a child. "Master Ammon Jerro, please meet our little one, newly arrived, Melyanna Edgewater. She wants to offer her thanks, as do I," she said solemnly, holding her little one so he could see the tiny face nestled in the soft blanket.

"May I," he asked, taking the newborn, careful to cradle her head in the crook of his elbow. Seeing the child's reaction to the light, he turned away from the window, careful not to turn his back to her mother. "She isn't cyanotic, is she," he asked, looking up with some concern.

Lil's smile was a trifle nervous. "At first, I was worried about her... darker shade, but there is some _Ilythiiri_ blood in the family. _Ai'tara _tells me she's fine-That she may be a true half-drow. It sometimes will skip a generation-Only time will tell."

He was unconsciously rocking her-She was almost asleep. A similar moment from long ago now came unbidden to him. Another newborn that he'd held that was so very much like the one he cradled. The only difference was a matter of names-Then she was named _Shandra_, now her name was _Melyanna._ _So long ago, _his mind drifted. He looked up at the half-elven woman who was watching him intently. "There is also another possibility; Have you ever heard of a _mystic _half-drow?" His eyes caught hers.

She noticed how near his eyes were to hers in color at that moment. Though startled, she had a ready answer; "Isn't that a half-elf transformed later in life? Usually at majority. They aren't born with dark-elf features," she replied, thinking, _Fathers never really do forget their own children, do they? _She wondered at his ease with a strange infant. _Rolan is my child's father, but who is my... _

"Yes, it is," he agreed, interrupting her thought. "What happened on the mountain leads me to conclude that there is a mystic connection between you, this child of yours, and the daughter of _Araushnee-Lolth, _if you will." He looked down at her babe, deep in thought. "Aside from her darker cast, is there anything unusual about her?" He peeked inside the blanket and smiled. "She's asleep," he murmured.

"She has a _Liantelle_, just like mine, on her back," the new mother mused. "It is strange, though... for most of my life, my tattoo was ebony-The spider's body is as big as my thumb." She held up a hand to demonstrate. Since returning from the mountain, its body and legs are traced with a fine silver line. Melyanna's mark is silvered too-It was never all ebony, like mine was. _Ai'tara _pointed it out to me after her first bath.

"All the more reason to keep an eye on her... on you _both, _if I may. You are of special interest to me. If you ever have need of me, call, and I will come." It was his turn to be thoughtful. "Well, it's time you put her down to bed, she needs her sleep," he said, passing the child back with a tenderness unlike his rough appearance.

* * *

"Master Jerro, you were there with us. What happened on the mount?" It was Rolan, who'd returned from his wife's errand-The Knight-Captain would be there shortly.

They were once again in the Edgewater's sitting room. The warlock scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Let me just tell you that those re-animated fire giants were not going to prevail... your... _goddess_ and _I _were... are not at odds in this, like some..._ others _would have you believe. We _both_ have our reasons for helping you, I suppose." He seemed reluctant to say any more.

"The moon elf boy, Gale, did you see him?" she asked with some concern. "We don't know where he went or what happened to him."

"The boy?" He was again sorting through dim memories. _The one who was a conduit for a most incredible display of power. Where was he? ...THINK. _Ammon sighed in resignation-He didn't know. "I honestly can't say. The last I saw of him, he was foolish... he was charging after you," he pointed at Lil's husband, "you both disappeared-I didn't see either one of you after that." He turned to the front door as if he'd heard something. "After I made sure you were safe, young lady, something or someone gated me back to my room in the Inn at Crossroad-Something or someone who wanted me gone," he said with a shrug.

"Ammon, just the man I wanted to see." Tiernah opened the front door and held it for E'len, who was loaded down with the makings of their next meal. "Come into the kitchen, sup with us. We have much to discuss, you and I." Her smile of welcome was genuine.

* * *

Elder Mayne was finishing up some correspondence in his office when his clerk tapped on the office door and entered. "Please forgive the late hour, Elder, I have a most urgent despatch. It bears a crown seal-I fear it cannot wait. Strange, though," she'd stopped at his door, "the courier didn't wait. He said that no reply was necessary."

"Thank you, Juni," his reply was distracted. He'd been waiting for word from the crown. Rumors of war and an increase in taxes had raised tensions even in his small village.

A missive from Lord Nasher was not unexpected. Refugees from the south bore tales of woe as they passed through. The stain of shadow on the swamp known as _The Mere of Dead Men_ was spreading. Their Lizardfolk allies, natives to the wetlands, had been patrolling the road past West Harbor. Just within the last ten-day, word was passed that _Batha, _their leader, had suspended patrols and reinforced Highcliff's south gate. No one doubted the lizardfolk's valor, but he refused to risk his troops on routine patrols that had become unsafe. A few skirmishes with an unknown rival in the darkness were enough to convince him to act.

"I will see you on the morrow," the Elder dismissed her, breaking the seal on his Lord's message. "Gods preserve us," he muttered as he read. "It was bound to happen..."

"Anything I can do?" Juni inquired. She'd lagged at the door out of curiosity. "It's the war, isn't it?" Her intuition was usually dead on.

He sighed. "Aye, it is," he affirmed. "My lord has issued an order to evacuate." He read on-The silence was drawn out. "The city of Neverwinter and all points south of Crossroad Keep are to send their inhabitants to the north and west. All militia units report to the command at Crossroad for the common defense."

"What do you want of me?" she asked, knowing that the parchment she'd just delivered was the end of their lives as they knew it.

"We'll need to round up the militia," he was thinking out loud, "Send Sergeant Milton here to me and dispatch a runner to Lady Lasshiva-She will see to the lizardfolk. Tell the harbormaster, I will meet with him as soon as he can get here. There is too much to do... Juni, lets go."

* * *

"My compliments to the... cook," Ammon said. He winked at Rolan's mother and piled the plates he could reach onto his. "It has been an age since I've sampled anything as good." He surprised everyone at the table by carrying his collection of tableware to the sideboard where they'd be washed. He worked with hands that had a grace that belied their size. "and now, to the purpose of my visit." He returned to his seat, held up the wine bottle, refilled E'len and Tiernah's, then his own glass. "As you well know, My Lady Knight-Captain, our next step in the war with the _Guardian_ is to re-forge the _Sword of Gith._"

"I'm not sure that we have enough shards," Tie was pensive. "Jacoby and Edario both agree that the sword is made of an alloy that is beyond their ability." Those two 'smiths were _Crossroad's _best-She knew they should look elsewhere for an answer.

The warlock snapped his fingers and scoffed as a thought occurred to him. "I have news of the shards," he said, shaking his head. "Just after you returned here, the _Gith _and I penned another copy of the _Hosttower's _list of _True Names._ One was for _her_, the other for _me_. We were just finishing up, the ink barely dry, when a battered patrol returned with news of a _shadow reaver_ encamped less than a day's ride from the keep." He paused to watch the Knight-Captain.

"So..." Tiernah raised an eyebrow. "don't keep us in suspense," she prompted.

He frowned, looking around the table, drawing them out. A sly smile lit his face. "They _worked,_" he intoned with no emotion. "In a most spectacular manner." He seemed to enjoy their unease. "The _Gith_, most graciously, allowed me to recite first. We alternated reciting the names until the very last one-He was _mine_." The warlock was thoughtful for a moment. "It appears that invoking his _True Name _isolates the reaver from the _Vale-_He cannot re-generate. It requires more study," he mused, showing his frustration.

"That is good news," the Knight-Captain was relieved. "Too bad we don't have the _Guardian's True Name,_" she lamented.

"I don't believe it would work, anyway," he looked at her sternly. "Still, we _do _have the protection of the _Statues of Purification... _but I digress. The last reaver had a shard, the largest one so far. The _Gith _feels, as do I, that we _do _have enough shards to re-make the _Silver Sword. _The question that remains-_How_?"

"Bad news," it was Rolan, out of breath. "The Elder has an order from the crown-Highcliff and all points south are to evacuate. An army of the dead are marching north from out of the _Mere._ We have to be out by sundown tomorrow."

The warlock got to his feet. "With that, we'll thank you for the hospitality and make our way to the keep." He turned to Tie. "Knight-Captain, when you're ready, I can gate us back right away."

E'len's smile was sad. "Let's get packed," she sighed in resignation. "We should be ready to leave when your father gets back." She embraced Tiernah and kissed a cheek. "_Diola lle, seler'rim. Namaarie, tenna' ento lye omenta._"

Tie returned the affection with a kiss as well. "_Lissenen ar' maska' lalaith tenna' lye omentuva,_" she wished for her moon elf sister and her family. The Knight-Captain reluctantly turned to her room to begin packing-Ammon Jerro was waiting.

* * *

The morning was cooler, a bit unseasonal for late summer. Isilme'len took a long look around with a feeling she'd forgotten to pack something. Most of her furnishings and household items were in a freight waggon that had left after dark last night. It was bound for a company trading post to the west of Waterdeep, safely out of the path of the advancing army of shadows.

Her son, Rolan and his wife and babe, left with the waggon after a whirlwind of inventorying and packing. They left reluctantly after getting a promise that the elders would leave at sunrise. It seemed the younger ones didn't feel as much of a pang of regret at being forced to leave. One day, when their roots ran deeper, they would understand her feelings.

"Did you forget something?" her husband asked from their front door. He was carrying something in his arms, hiding it from her sight.

"Not that I can think of..." she called, nothing of import came to mind. _He's locked the door, _she thought with affection. _Old love-old habits. _She couldn't keep from smiling. Her smile widened as he walked slowly around the house, making a final inspection. _He can't leave until it's right, _she thought, shaking her head in amused resignation.

She waved as two waggons in succession passed by. The Edgewaters would be one of the last to leave. The Elder, still taking his duty seriously would leave last, to be sure no-one was left behind.

As she waited for her husband, her thoughts turned inward. When this war ended, as all wars do, would her home still be here? They could always rebuild. They just had to survive.

Her mind wandered to the discussion at the dinner table yesterday. The shadow war was centered around the woman who called her _sister._ Why the Knight-Captain had taken the time to come here to Highcliff when she was needed at Crossroad Keep spoke of purpose-A divine hand at work. Lillith, Rolan, their child-Melyanna, Tiernah, and even the mysterious warlock, Jerro, were all players on this stage. The memories of last month's trials, like distant dreams, had faded away to be replaced by new ones; The shadow army from out of the _mere_ was in Tiernah's path now. At the end of the Knight-Captain's path, the _King of Shadows _waited. A thought haunted E'len. It made no sense to her-Maybe her sister would understand; _Laleen's love will win the day._

"Make preparations for getting under way." Her husband's weight rocked the wagon, breaking into her waking reverie. "It's not a parrot, but it'll have to do," he said in mock severity as he passed the something he'd been hiding to her.

"Moonbow," she exclaimed with pleasure, gathering up her lost pet. Looking into the familiar's brown eyes, she asked, "_Lle au',_ _Manka nae lle?_"

"Had to lock up," he grumbled, not put out at all.

"Not you," she said, holding up her pet. "_Her..._ but I'm glad _you _made it," she teased him.

"_Hummpf,_" he replied, starting the team with a slap of the reins.

She took a last longing look at their home and turned away. "_Tenna' tul' re san',_ she murmured.

Grey Co. Elven Translations;

_atara'rim-_dear mother.

_ai'tara-_little mother(_Sehanine's Heavenly Starsinger _mid-wife.)

_Liantelle-_Little Spider(A spider tattoo given to Lil and Melyanna by _Eilistraee, _daughter of _Araushnee-_Later named _Lolth_, spider queen of the Drow.)

_Diola lle, seler'rim. Namaarie, tenna' ento lye omenta._-Thank you, dear sister. Farewell, until next we meet.

_Lissenen ar' maska' lalaith tenna' lye omentuva.-_Sweet water and light laughter till next we meet.

_Lle au',_ _Manka nae lle?-_You again, where were you?

_Tenna' tul' re san-_Until tomorrow, then.

A/N Effusive thanks to my friend _Wyl_ for his help in editing.


	25. Village of Highcliff

"_Aiya, Seldarine,_ it is much worse than I thought it would be." Isilme'len stood still at the end of the path that led to her home's front door. It had been three seasons, almost a year, since they'd left here ahead of the advancing shadow army. What had once been the seat of her life was now a pile of scorched roof beams and plaster lathe. She spoke a short prayer of gratitude to _Sehanine Moonbow_ for the time they had to pack up their belongings, that were now stored safely at _Edgewater Import's _trading post just a few leagues northwest of _Delimbyr-_Two short days ride from what was left of their village of _Highcliff. _

"Oh Gods, what a mess." It was Lillith behind her with their babe on her back, looking intently over her shoulder. Lil had to wince as a tiny handful of her braids was given a hearty tug. "Nasty, stinky baby girl," she protested shaking her head in a vain attempt to free her hair, causing her free plaits to pepper the child's face. Melyanna shrieked with glee-tormenting her _'tara_ was great fun. "Nasty girl needs to be changed." _'tara_ didn't share Mely's enthusiasm. "It just might improve your mean temper," Lil groused-She was obviously near the end of her patience.

"Come here, _you,_" E'len disentangled her grand-child from the harness that held her to her mother's back. She earned a shriek of outrage from the child when her mother's hair pulled free from her grasp. "Let's get you cleaned up," she continued. "Maybe you _both _will brighten up," she said, hefting the babe with a stern look for her daughter-in-law.

* * *

Isilme'len's husband and son were held up with the Elder's group, who were sidelined with a broken wagon wheel on the road from _Delimbyr._ They caught up at sunset with news from Neverwinter. The _War of Shadows _was won-They all knew that. The word, sent to all settlements that the refugees could return home, was a ten-day old. A messenger, passing by on his way south, had grave news; The Knight-Captain and her company were missing.

The courier had very little detail, but rumor had it that a badly injured ranger was treated at the _Temple of Tyr _at the keep. When questioned about where he got his injuries, his only reply was a cryptic 'hunting accident'. A soldier bunking in the room told the cleric that the ranger was raving in his sleep-Something about_ Knight-Captain's_ _betrayal _and_ release my love_. When the soldier woke up, the ranger was gone. The king's messenger left a decree with the Elder and continued south.

* * *

The Edgewaters were encamped just south of where the old watchtower stood on the road to west harbor. Three other families, including the Elder and his wife and Juni and Will with their two boys, had returned to what had once been Highcliff. With luck, more would return.

Her family was all sleeping. She'd just awakened from a pleasant rest. Lately her reverie was getting stronger-The color had returned to her reminisces. Failing eyesight no longer worried her like it used to. She no longer feared the slow climb back to the waking world of work and worry. She wondered about Lillith though. Her daughter-in-law seemed reluctant to enter reverie. _Young motherhood is yet another trial,_ she sighed and put that concern away for another day.

"Where are you _Vanima Seler'rim_?" the moon elf murmured, looking up at her beloved _Selune._ Tiernah had not passed on to the far shore-E'len would know in her heart. Tiernah was not _here_, but she was_ somewhere_...

* * *

_A Summons from the Throne of Neverwinter_

_ Our Lord Nasher Alagondar, of Neverwinter, has issued a summons for a Luskan ranger, known locally as Bishop. He was last seen by a work detail rebuilding Crossroad Keep from the ravages of the Shadow Army in the recent War of Shadows._

_ Charge, the first;  
__The Luskan is wanted by the Crown for his part in the sabotage of the defenses of Crossroad Keep, therein placing the fortress in mortal danger-Neverwinter, then, being in the state of war.  
__This charge executed by Lady Kana, Adjutant of Crossroad Keep._

_ Charge, the second;  
__The Crown, in league with the Council of Neverwinter, have enjoined all militia, naval units, and subjects of said Crown to convey the Luskan, Bishop, to Castle Never upon his capture; A bounty of 100 gold is offered for the ranger alive, regardless of duty. 10 gold will be tendered for proof of his demise. He, being a suspect in the disappearance of the Knight-Captain of Crossroad Keep-Lady Tiernah Lunedoptera and her company, is being sought._

_ Authority of Lord Nasher Alagondar, by his Captain of the Neverwinter Nine, Sir Nevalle of Castle Never._

Gray Co. Elven translation;

_Vanime Seler'rim_-Beautiful, dear sister.

A/N Effusive thank-you's to _Bronxwench _and _MorwennaTheWicked _for their encouragement and influence. And to _Wyl_ for his help in keeping everything 'in gauge'.


End file.
